[Thành Tuyết] Thương

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Pairing: Thành Tuyết – Diệp Cô Thành x Phó Hồng Tuyết (Lục Tiểu Phụng truyền kỳ x Tân Biên Thành Lãng Tử)

*Đây là cp Tiêu Liên diễn sinh

Genres: BL, one-shot

Rating: 10+

Nhân vật: Diệp Cô Thành, Phó Hồng Tuyết, original character

Chú ý: Hình tượng và tính cách nhân vật lấy từ phim truyền hình Lục Tiểu Phụng truyền kỳ (2006) với Nghiêm Khoan đóng Diệp Cô Thành và Tân Biên Thành Lãng Tử (2016) với Chu Nhất Long đóng Phó Hồng Tuyết.

Preview:

“Các hạ dùng đao.”

Đó là một câu khẳng định.

“Phải.”

“Cầu một trận chiến.”

“Được. Khi nào?”

“Ngay bây giờ.”

“Được.”

Niệm Lâu là nơi như thế nào?

Có người gọi đó là quỷ lâu, là hang ổ của những con quỷ hung ác nhất, tàn bạo nhất mà ngay đến địa ngục cũng không muốn chứa chấp. Lại có người cho đó là lạc giới, khoái lạc nào con người có thể tưởng tượng ra Niệm Lâu đều có. Cũng có người quan niệm đó là luyện ngục, nơi cầm giữ những linh hồn tuy thân xác đã về với cát bụi từ lâu nhưng vẫn bị xiềng xích của chấp niệm níu chặt ở dương gian, bị luân hồi bỏ quên. Rồi có người cho rằng Niệm Lâu là một sinh vật sống bằng sức mạnh từ những linh hồn nó nuốt chửng, sau đó lợi dụng chúng để dẫn dụ những con mồi mới. Điểm chung duy nhất giữa những quan niệm đó là: đã đặt chân vào lâu thì vĩnh viễn đừng mong trở ra.

Đó là lời Vân Thâu nói với Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết khi gã mời hai người đến Niệm Lâu.

Vân Thâu là một thiếu niên tuấn tú nhu hoà, thoạt nhìn mới mười sáu, mười bảy tuổi. Gã ăn nói cẩn trọng, lễ phép lịch sự, dù khoác áo vải xám thô nhưng khí độ vượt xa bao nhiêu công tử mặc gấm vóc ngọc ngà. Gã dùng chất giọng nhẹ nhàng nhất để nói ra những điều khủng khiếp nhất, ghê rợn nhất và người nghe thủy chung đều cảm thấy như đang thưởng thức một khúc ca xướng êm tai và vô hại.

Khi Vân Thâu mở lời, cả Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết đều không đắn đo.

Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết đặt chân vào Niệm Lâu cùng một thời điểm. Khoảnh khắc hai ánh mắt giao nhau, cả hai đều không nghi ngờ đó là định mệnh.

Bởi nếu không phải định mệnh thì làm sao hai con người, hay nói đúng hơn là hai linh hồn thuộc về hai thời đại khác nhau, chia cách bởi một trăm năm chẵn lại gặp nhau ở chốn kỳ quái này?

Ánh mắt Diệp Cô Thành dịch chuyển xuống đầu vai Phó Hồng Tuyết, dọc theo cánh tay và dừng lại ở bàn tay hắn.

Vỏ đao đen nhánh, chuôi đao đen nhánh, bàn tay trắng tái.

Ánh mắt Phó Hồng Tuyết dịch chuyển xuống đầu vai Diệp Cô Thành, dọc theo cánh tay và dừng lại ở bàn tay y.

Vỏ kiếm trắng toát, chuôi kiếm trắng toát, bàn tay trắng toát.

“Các hạ dùng đao.”

Đó là một câu khẳng định.

“Phải.”

“Cầu một trận chiến.”

“Được. Khi nào?”

“Ngay bây giờ.”

“Được.”

Diệp Cô Thành lúc trước sẽ không bao giờ bồng bột khiêu chiến một kẻ y dù mới gặp lần đầu nhưng có thể khẳng định là cường giả; cường giả trong thiên hạ không thiếu, thế nhưng chỉ một cường giả duy nhất xứng đáng trở thành đối thủ của y, xứng đáng để y cầu một trận chiến sinh tử. Hơn nữa, trên vai Diệp Cô Thành còn có Bạch Vân thành cùng hàng ngàn sinh mệnh dân chúng; mỗi bước tiến hay lùi y đều phải đắn đo suy nghĩ, vạn lần không thể tùy tiện chỉ vì ý nguyện của bản thân. Đặt chân vào Niệm Lâu, Diệp Cô Thành hoàn toàn bỏ lại hết thảy: tước vị thành chủ, trọng trách với tổ tiên Diệp thị, với dân chúng chịu sự chở che và dẫn dắt của gia tộc y, thậm chí cả cơ hội luân hồi. Chỉ còn kiếm ở lại cùng y, hoà quyện với linh hồn y, đưa y trở về bản chất của mình vốn bị vận mệnh vùi lấp: một kiếm khách. Một kiếm khách có thể có đối thủ, cũng có thể khiêu chiến với đối thủ, dẫu là sinh tử quyết chiến cũng có thể xem nhẹ tựa lông hồng.

Trong tử vong, Diệp Cô Thành mất đi mạng sống, địa vị nhưng có được rất nhiều. 

Phó Hồng Tuyết lúc trước sẽ không bao nhờ nhanh chóng chấp nhận khiêu chiến từ một kẻ hắn dù mới gặp lần đầu nhưng có thể khẳng định là cường giả và quyết chiến với y chỉ có thể là quyết chiến sinh tử; khi đó trên thân hắn có quá nhiều xiềng xích trói buộc đến nỗi mỗi bước tiến hay lùi đều không phải ý nguyện của bản thân mà là sự lôi kéo từ trách nhiệm báo thù, từ ý muốn báo đáp công ơn sinh thành của phụ thân, mẫu thân. Từ giây phút bước vào Niệm Lâu, mọi gông xiềng trên người Phó Hồng Tuyết đều lập tức gỡ bỏ, lần đầu tiên linh hồn hắn được giải thoát, lần đầu tiên hắn biết được thế nào là hành xử theo mong muốn của bản thân.

Đây chính là sự “tự do trong tử vong” mà hắn từng nói với Thuý Nùng, người con gái mang số phận giống hệt hắn nhưng đã tìm được tự do trước hắn.

Vân Thâu thu xếp cho Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết quyết chiến trong vườn bạch mai ở hậu viện Niệm Lâu, đồng thời bảo đảm không có bất cứ linh hồn nào quấy rầy họ. Gã thực hiện tất cả với nụ cười ôn nhã bất biến cùng câu cửa miệng mà sau này gã đều nói trước khi thực hiện mỗi yêu cầu của Diệp Cô Thành, Phó Hồng Tuyết hay bất kỳ ai gã mời đến Niệm Lâu: “Ước muốn của ngài là mệnh lệnh của tiểu nhân.”

Vân Thâu là hạ nhân của bất cứ ai sống trong Niệm Lâu nhưng không ai sống trong Niệm Lâu là chủ nhân của gã.

Vườn mai ở hậu viện trải dài ngút mắt, bốn bề đều là những cánh hoa như tuyết không ngừng trải lên mặt đất một tấm thảm trắng.

Đao và kiếm vừa rời vỏ, trận chiến đã kết thúc. Chóng vánh đến độ một cánh hoa chưa kịp đáp xuống đất.

Kiếm của Diệp Cô Thành ấn vào ngực trái Phó Hồng Tuyết một tấc, không quá sâu nhưng đủ để chạm vào trái tim.

Đao của Phó Hồng Tuyết ấn vào cổ Diệp Cô Thành một tấc, không quá sâu nhưng đủ để cắt đứt động mạch.

Hai giọt máu từ vết thương của họ rơi lên những cánh bạch mai như chu sa điểm giấy trắng.

Đao thu về, kiếm tra vào vỏ, không ai chiến thắng, cũng không ai ngã xuống. Bàn tay của Vân Thâu vừa chạm vào, hai vết thương liền biến mất, dấu vết duy nhất còn lại của cuộc chiến chỉ là hai chấm đỏ thẫm trên cánh hoa nhưng ngay đến chúng cũng bị những cánh hoa mới nhanh chóng vùi lấp.

Đây là lần đầu tiên nhưng không phải lần cuối cùng Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết giao chiến. Dần dần, quyết chiến sinh tử trở thành tỷ võ luận chiêu, thành thú tiêu khiển cả hai cùng ưa thích khi sống những tháng ngày tiêu diêu tự tại ở Niệm Lâu.

Và giữa Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết cũng dần hình thành một quan hệ khác ngoài đối thủ tương tích.

Không rõ ai chủ động trước và vấn đề đó cũng không quan trọng. Hơn nữa, cả hai đều không một lần tự hỏi vì sao hay từ khi nào ánh mắt họ nhìn nhau không còn trông thấy một đối thủ kích thích chiến ý lẫn sát ý của mình đến tận cùng. Họ vẫn “giết chết” nhau mỗi lần tỷ thí—cao thủ thượng đẳng chiến đấu sao tránh khỏi lưu huyết—nhưng lưỡi đao, lưỡi kiếm hướng về nhau đã cạn sạch sát khí. Tất nhiên, cả Diệp Cô Thành lẫn Phó Hồng Tuyết đều hiểu nếu ở ngoài Niệm Lâu, mối quan hệ này sẽ không bao giờ thành hình như hiện tại mà điều đó hoàn toàn không phải do họ thuộc về hai thời đại khác nhau. Quá nhiều gông xiềng, quá nhiều ràng buộc, quá nhiều trách nhiệm. Niệm Lâu dung nhập những linh hồn nó chọn lựa và ngăn lại ngoài cánh cửa sơn đen sờn cũ mọi liên kết giữa linh hồn với tiền kiếp; kẻ sống trong Niệm Lâu chẳng cần bận lòng đến thế sự nhân quả, y hoàn toàn tự do theo đuổi dục vọng của bản thân và Niệm Lâu sẽ giúp y thỏa mãn dục vọng đó, bất kể nó đen tối thế nào, hủy diệt thế nào.

Bi ai một nỗi, người như Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết không có dục vọng. Một người trong tâm chỉ có kiếm, một người trong tâm chỉ có đao. Nếu lúc trước đao, kiếm còn treo trách nhiệm thì hiện tại, đao, kiếm đã được phóng thích, càng trở nên sắc bén, càng trở nên thuần khiết. Có đao, kiếm trong tâm, một người còn chỗ cho dục vọng hay sao?

Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết vốn là hai người rất khác nhau. Y dùng kiếm, hắn dùng đao. Kiếm của y lạnh lẽo như tuyết trên Thiên Sơn, đao của hắn nóng bỏng như hỏa ngục. Y vừa sinh ra đã là vương giả, hắn vừa sinh ra đã là kẻ lưu vong. Y sống trong lầu son gác tía, hắn sống nơi hoang sơn dã lĩnh. Y vận y phục trắng, hắn vận y phục đen. Y mang trách nhiệm, hắn gánh hận thù. Khác biệt như hai đầu mút của một sợi dây và khoảng cách ở giữa là vô tận. Thế nhưng ngay giây phút đầu tiên nhìn thấy nhau, họ đều nhận ra đối phương và mình là cùng một loại người: đem sinh mệnh gá vào đao, kiếm, lấy đao, kiếm làm lẽ sống; thiếu đi đao, kiếm, Diệp Cô Thành không còn là Diệp Cô Thành, Phó Hồng Tuyết cũng không phải Phó Hồng Tuyết mà chỉ là hai phàm nhân Niệm Lâu có lẽ chẳng bao giờ đoái hoài.

Vì vậy, Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết đều là những kẻ cô đơn.

Vì đều là kẻ cô đơn nên họ tìm thấy ở nhau một nửa của mình.

Hút lấy rồi gắn chặt, hai nửa khiếm khuyết tạo thành một sự hoàn hảo.

Tự nhiên như thể những đóa bạch mai ở hậu viện Niệm Lâu không có lựa chọn nào khác ngoài đáp lên thân xác rũ héo, khô quắt của tiền bối, dùng vẻ tươi mới ngắn ngủi của mình tô điểm cho hậu viện cho đến khi bị vùi lấp bởi lớp hậu bối và vòng tròn lại tiếp diễn.

Trên đùi phải Phó Hồng Tuyết có một vết sẹo. Đó là một vết sẹo lớn, thô lậu như vết răng thú, chứng tỏ kiếm thuật của kẻ gây ra nó chẳng hề cao minh.

Vốn là kiếm thương do bàn tay của con gái kẻ thù. Phó Hồng Tuyết hoàn toàn bất ngờ khi mũi kiếm bén ngót xuyên qua da thịt, cắm sâu vào xương đùi.

Vết thương không lấy mạng Phó Hồng Tuyết nhưng khiến hắn không còn đi lại bình thường trong những ngày tháng ngắn ngủi còn lại của sinh mạng.

Trên ngực trái Diệp Cô Thành có một vết sẹo. Đó là một vết sẹo nhỏ, gọn gàng như một đường tơ, chứng tỏ kiếm thuật của kẻ gây ra nó đã đạt đến trình độ thượng thừa.

Vốn là kiếm thương do bàn tay của đối thủ duy nhất. Diệp Cô Thành chủ động nghênh đón mũi kiếm bén ngót xuyên qua da thịt, chạm đến trái tim.

Kiếm thương của Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết dù khác nhau về nhiều mặt nhưng có một điểm chung then chốt: đau đớn.

Thương tích đã thành sẹo từ lâu lẽ ra không còn đau nhức, đằng này, mỗi đợt phát tác, chúng lại đau như mới được tạo ra trên cơ thể một khắc trước.

Trên hết, thân xác huyết nhục đã về cát bụi từ lâu, vốn nên miễn nhiễm với đau đớn, thế nhưng kiếm thương ấy không chỉ là vết thương trên thân thể mà còn là vết hằn lên linh hồn.

Khi bắt đầu một kiếp, linh hồn con người trong veo như một chậu nước sương; trải qua mỗi biến cố trong nhân sinh, nước trong chậu lại vẩn đục một chút để rồi đến cuối đời, chậu sương mai ban đầu trở thành một chậu mực, chỉ có luân hồi mới thanh tẩy được.

Tuy nhiên, luân hồi là một khái niệm không tưởng đối với những linh hồn đã bước vào Niệm Lâu, Vân Thâu đã khẳng định ngay từ giây phút đầu tiên. Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết vì thế đành vĩnh viễn chung sống với đau đớn.

Bởi vì Vân Thâu có thể chữa lành mọi tổn thương trí mạng họ gây ra cho nhau mỗi lần tỷ thí nhưng vô phương chữa lành vết hằn trên linh hồn.

Ai bảo Niệm Lâu ngăn lại ngoài cánh cửa sơn đen sờn cũ mọi liên kết với giữa linh hồn với tiền kiếp đâu này?

Diệp Cô Thành và Phó Hồng Tuyết đã tìm được phương pháp giảm bớt đau đớn cho đối phương.

Bàn tay Diệp Cô Thành rất trắng, khớp xương thon dài, rắn chắc, lòng bàn tay nổi lên nhưng vết chai do quanh năm cầm kiếm. Bàn tay Diệp Cô Thành cũng rất ấm; khi Diệp Cô Thành chạm vào vết thương của Phó Hồng Tuyết, hơi ấm cùng những vết chai trong lòng bàn tay khiến hắn sinh cảm giác y đang nắm lấy trái tim mình.

Bàn tay Phó Hồng Tuyết cũng rất trắng, khớp xương thon dài, rắn chắc, lòng bàn tay nổi lên những vết chai do quanh năm luyện đao. Bàn tay Phó Hồng Tuyết lại rất lạnh; khi Phó Hồng Tuyết chạm vào vết thương của Diệp Cô Thành, hơi lạnh cùng những vết chai trong lòng bàn tay khiến y sinh cảm giác hắn đang cầm giữ trái tim mình.

Thân xác không còn, linh hồn lại cảm nhận rõ nét hết thảy.

Và đau đớn tan dần đi với mỗi nhịp đập của trái tim.

Bằng phương pháp độc nhất vô nhị ấy hai người họ giúp đối phương xua tan đau đớn.

Nhưng, phương pháp đó chỉ hiệu quả khi một trong hai người không bị đau đớn giày vò. Khi cả hai vết kiếm thương cùng phát tác, nhất là những lúc trái gió trở trời, họ có phương pháp khác.

Phòng của Diệp Cô Thành ở cánh tây, phòng của Phó Hồng Tuyết ở cánh đông, cách nhau một dãy hành lang miên man với vô số cánh cửa sơn đen giống nhau như bản sao đúc từ một khuôn. Mỗi cánh cửa thuộc về một người sống ở Niệm Lâu và nội thất cùng bài trí bên trong đều tuân theo sở thích và yêu cầu của chủ nhân căn phòng đến chi tiết nhỏ nhất.

Phòng của Diệp Cô Thành và phòng của Phó Hồng Tuyết là hai căn phòng duy nhất ở Niệm Lâu giống hệt nhau: nội thất tối giản hết mức có thể.

Có khi Diệp Cô Thành sẽ ở lại phòng Phó Hồng Tuyết, cũng có khi Phó Hồng Tuyết sẽ qua phòng Diệp Cô Thành.

Để triệt tiêu nhức nhối từ kiếm thương cần đến một cảm giác mãnh liệt tương đương.

Giống như lấy độc trị độc.

Có điều, loại độc này càng ngấm vào thân thì càng say mê.

Đêm nay, bên ngoài Niệm Lâu nổi giông tố. Gió như từng lưỡi dao cùn mài lên khung cửa sổ.

Khách nhân hầu hết đã về thế giới riêng của mình sau những cánh cửa sơn đen im lìm, chỉ còn một mình Vân Thâu ngồi ở quầy.

Niệm Lâu không bao giờ đóng cửa, Vân Thâu không bao giờ nghỉ ngơi.

Bắt gặp Phó Hồng Tuyết khập khiễng băng qua sảnh, gã nở nụ cười. Phó Hồng Tuyết chỉ gật đầu rồi tiếp bước.

Qua sảnh là cánh đông.

Phó Hồng Tuyết nhìn những cánh cửa giống hệt nhau, tiến về cánh cửa gần cuối, khẽ đẩy ra.

Sau cánh cửa, Diệp Cô Thành đang ngồi xếp bằng trước bàn thấp, ngọn nến trên bàn thêm chút màu sắc cho khuôn mặt trắng tái như u linh.

Hai ánh mắt bắt gặp nhau, đồng thời nhận ra đau đớn quen thuộc phản chiếu trong con ngươi như nước sơn.

Không lời nào được nói, không lời nào cần nói.

Ánh nến leo lắt hắt lên hai mảnh trắng đen quấn lấy nhau dưới chân giường rồi phụt tắt.

Căn phòng tối đen như thuở hỗn độn nhưng hai đôi mắt nhìn rất rõ những gì cần thấy.

Ngoài cửa sổ gió thét gào.

Kết thúc

Đây là fic để thỏa mãn tâm hồn fan gái ship cp không biết điểm dừng của bạn Joel. Từ lúc ship Tiêu Liên bạn Joel đã nghĩ đến cp diễn sinh rồi và còn ai hợp với Tuyết hơn Diệp thành chủ cool ngầu lòi các thể loại (cao phú soái mà các chế ngôn tình cứ nhắc mãi là đây sao =))). Hai người này thành cp thì chính là “mùa hè không cần máy lạnh”. Lấy tên cp là Thành Tuyết hay Diệp Phó nhỉ (nhưng Diệp Phó thì trùng với Diệp Khai x Phó Hồng Tuyết mất rồi)?

Đoạn cuối có H nhưng còn nhẹ hơn gió thoảng mây bay~~.

À, Niệm Lâu trong đây cũng chính là Niệm Lâu trong fic Niệm Lâu (ship cp Sở Vô – Sở Lưu Hương x Vô Hoa), nếu ai hứng thú về quán trọ kiêm quán ăn kỳ cục này thì có thể ghé mắt qua fic trên.

Vân Thâu là OC – original character của bạn và thằng bé có dây mơ rễ má với Vô Mịch bên series Chú Sinh.

[Trilijah] Haunting

Haunting

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom: Wasted on the Young x The Originals

Rating: T

Pairing: Trilijah – Elijah Mikaelson x Tristan de Martel (though they merely appear around the end)

Genres: fanfiction, canon divergence

Preview:

As long as Darren was dead and unreal, he could deal with those spontaneous ‘visits’. Ride through them like he had ridden through a mediocre college and a mediocre decree and this mediocre auto repair shop in this mediocre backwater no-where.

As long as Darren wasn’t flesh and blood.

Until he was.

Set after the end of Wasted on the Young

In his regular darkest, loneliest hours, filled with cheap booze and nicotine, Zack allowed his thoughts to cling onto the tendrils of smoke and wandered from his addled head. Somehow, no matter where they strayed to, when the tobacco bags were crumpled and the bottles drained, smashed, they all spiraled back to one subject: Darren.

Zack had experienced his very first dark and lonely hours with Darren. Darren who had bound him to the couch and sat next to him, silent as a ghost waiting for the light of heaven. Before them was the device Darren might have intended for the end-of-year project, yet Zack was sure as hell no criteria had been associated with a loaded pistol that pointed at each of them every time a vote was counted. While Zack’s confidence was chipped by the seconds, for the number of times the gun directed its mouth to him was as many as the number it did Darren, his step brother’s expressions were serene as when he was playing one of his favorite computer games. His hands, whole and broken, folded on his laps, and his blue eyes seemed to emit a soft, eerie glow as he gazed into the gun’s hole as though it were something to be adored, lost to the world at large.

Zack wasn’t above begging him to stop, although all his pleas went deaf in Darren’s ears. He had been adamant in his murderous attempt.

The gun pointed at Zack and he squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a sharp, charring pain between his eyes to signal the abrupt conclusion of his life. Then he heard a “click” sound and felt the sticky warmth plastered on half of his face. Too warm that his skin felt burning. When he dare open his eyes, the gory sight scene of Darren’s head lolled to a side, blood gushing out from where his left eye used to be was enough to haunt him for life.

The gun veered at him, its muzzle a grotesque eye staring questioningly at him. Zack was torn between the suspense that the gun would fire and the flimsy hope that it would not.

He saw the trigger move, and nothing came out. There had only been a single bullet in its chamber.

Zack spent the next hour in the company of a corpse, finding himself unable to stop staring in Darren’s wide-open, remaining blue eye and wondering whether it was his own life rather than Zack’s that his step-brother had planned to snuff in the first place. All the menacing speech and the voting had merely been a farce.

It may have been Darren’s greatest and most well-played farce.

Zack got out of it clean, just as he had gotten out of every of his mess clean. The evidence was clear – Darren’s handprints all over the gun and device, Zack being immobilized and the party goers’ witness – so the case was quickly closed, or rather, silenced by Zack’s father. And Xandrie’s shaky video too, while he was at it. The perk of having a hugely influential father with an enormous account. Cassi didn’t buy it though. She screamed and screamed and might have torn Zack’s face off with her bare, bony hands but for the police officers’ restraining and sedating her. Gave her enough to tranquilize a horse, he heard the officers mutter. It never occurred to him that the gold digger loved her son that much, judging from the abundant time she had left him to his own device, quite literally, for partying and fucking men. Zack supposed it would surprise Darren also, were he alive to witness his estranged mother’s love and grief.

Zack heard that Cassi had been sent to an institution and died soon afterwards. Somehow she had managed to sneak a razor blade into her room. Perhaps a visitor had given it to her, no one knew. What happened next was a poor cliché: a staff member saw her to bed safely and found dear old Cassi a rigid cadaver the next morning when he came in to check on her. Had cut her own wrists sometime in the death of the night and bled all over the sterile white floor. Left a nastiest stain as a souvenir for the janitor. Like mother, like son. All nut jobs. When Cassi’s news reached him, Zack wondered, like he had wondered many a time about Darren and Xandrie, if they were ever united in the afterlife, or whichever place the dead would go to.

Zack stretched his arm and reached into the old, worn hardwood drawer. His fingers rummaged for a few good seconds before they found the object of his drunken scavenger hunt – a sleek, black gun, the same model as the one Xandrie and later Darren had held against his face. Inside the chamber a single bullet was lodged.

He held the gun to his left temple, his forefinger toying with the trigger while his mind conjuring the myriad scenarios in which his corpse would be found. “Not today,” he mumbled to no one in particular, repeated it in louder volume and finally shouted. No one would hear him since the auto repair shop was only inhabited by homeless ghosts and Zack at this odd hour. Some day, yes, but not today. He put the gun into his drawer and locked it securely.

Zack purchased it some days after Darren had come back to haunt him. Not the kind of 24/7 haunting though. Sometimes his step-brother popped out from the middle of nowhere, across the street, at the table in the darkest corner, behind the shop’s smudgy glass door, in the broken mirror. Sometimes he was with Xandrie, the two of them in big matching hoodies that hid away most of their faces save huge, sunken eyes that drilled into Zack, and sometimes he was alone. Sometimes he appeared whole, sometimes with a bloody hole going all the way into his skull for an eye. He did nothing, merely looking until Zack could take no more and shouted at him, smashing every surface Darren could use to make his presence known, and then he simply vanished. Another day, or another month, and he would appear once again – the cycle never ended. Heck, this sapped sanity quicker than quick sand. So guess what? No scholarship for a nutty boy who had survived a trauma architected by his step brother: people pitied him and said all kind, encouraging words to him in front of his face and yet, when they turned their back, none would want to take a ghost-seeing student into their college. Zack guessed it was fair and square – after all he could no longer give them any medals. Swimming champion now became hydrophobic – the biggest irony. Couldn’t even go anywhere near water. Truth be told, it wasn’t water that scared the shit out of him. Not all kinds of water anyway. It was the pool that did, really. The pool with its chloride-filled water that no matter how he looked, it was nothing but Darren’s huge eye.

Nevertheless, Zack could live with that, as the last thread of rationality in him was able to determine that the ‘Darren’ he saw again and again was not real, but rather a fragment of… of what? He would not call it guilt, for if he did, it only meant that little fucker had won and Zack, no matter how messed and failed his life had become after Darren, would not lose to a teenage apparition. As long as Darren was dead and unreal, he could deal with those spontaneous ‘visits’. Ride through them like he had ridden through a mediocre college and a mediocre decree and this mediocre auto repair shop in this mediocre backwater no-where.

As long as Darren wasn’t flesh and blood.

Until he was.

Zack’s cloudy eyes lit up at the sight of a sleek black Ford steering towards him and making a halt. It was the first car to stop at Zack’s shop after a whole morning and half the afternoon of idleness, and a very fine one at that. The door open and from the inside a man stepped down, all in black and handsome as the vehicle itself. Probably a CEO or some important figure, judging by his designer suit, his cuff links and his watch. Heck, Zack used to possess the exact same one – daddy’s big present to compensate for his absence at his son’s coming-of-age birthday. He had loved it until the day he was forced to sell it.

He eyed the man with some fascination as the opposite door opened and another figure came into his sight. Designer suit again, adorned with gold cuff links flashing blindingly in the intense July sun. Zack had to squint his eyes in order to get a relatively decent view of the second man’s face.

He wished he hadn’t. In fact, he’d rather be blind than see that face.

Darren’s face. An exact duplication save few minor modifications. He looked older, for one, his face’s being a man’s instead of an adolescent’s, and there were some stubbles on his chin – a fully grown man – while Darren’s had been smooth. But the eyes were the same, a winter blue that seemed to pierce to Zack’s soul when his gaze glided over Zack.

There was not the slightest hint of recognition in those irises. Yet Zack was shivering despite the glaring heat.

Things processed like a hazy fever dream. Darren and his companion gave some instructions regarding their car – the usual maintenance job, gas fill and a wash. Zack found himself nodding but not really listening. He wondered if they took notice of his staring – couldn’t peel his eyes off that haunting face. Even if they did, Zack had a distinct impression that they wouldn’t give a damn about it. Men in expensive suits like them avoided unnecessary quarrels like germs: getting worked up over something as trivial as an inappropriate look was just too beneath them.

While they spent their wait in a poor excuse for a fast food stall at the back of the auto repair shop and ordered food out of politeness rather than necessity, Zack found himself wandering back to his locker. He unlocked the rusty drawer, rummaged through various trinkets and papers to seek for one thing.

A single gun. A single bullet.

“This is the day,” a voice whispered to him. “This is the day,” he repeated.

Wendy was dozing at the counter and her only two customers were having a chat in soft voice when Zack stalked to their seats, the pistol in his hand – safety lock flipped, ready to shoot. Darren’s companion saw him first. His dark eyes fell upon Zack’s face, then his arm, his fingers clenched around the grip. He must have noticed the strange thing in his hand too, for his eyes widened just a bit. Mildly surprised, not scared though. Strange man. Zack had half expected him to freak out.

Only when he paid attention to the subtle change in his partner’s countenance did Darren’s ghost turn his head, eyes slightly enlarged as if only now had Zack’s existence been registered to his brain. Funny how that used to be the other way around during high school: Zack, captain of the swimming team, the school’s golden boy and Darren an awkward nerd mostly invisible. Look at them now: the golden boy had become an alcoholic barely holding his job in a no-name shop and the nerd at the top of the world. Are you satisfied, Darren?

Zack laughed an ugly laugh and pulled the trigger.

The bullet drilled into Darren’s left eye and burst through the wall behind, giving its greasy surface a new coat of crimson. Avant-garde, that was the only word in Zack’s head, Zack who had basically skipped every art class. But, like some wise man once said, you could not appreciate art until you’d seen true art.

This was true art: the wall wet with Darren’s blood and Darren a warm cadaver sprawled face-down on the dusty floor.

…Except Darren hadn’t fallen. The force of a close-ranged bullet caused him to stagger a few steps back and that was it: Darren, standing and blatantly living in spite of a hole in his skull. His face, half-painted in blood, was relatively calm.

Mildly surprised, the same as his partner’s.

Zack wanted to scream his lungs out; nonetheless, his screams were muffed before they were released out of his throat.

Then Zack was laughing out loud, the kind of laughter that was no different than howl. He was witnessing the most bizarre freak show in the world and it was too amusing he wouldn’t want to stop laughing: Darren’s damaged flesh was restored like a movie clip in rewinding, his eye and face becoming whole and perfect as if nothing had happened.

Perhaps no event had truly occurred and everything was in Zack’s head. He blinked, feeling acutely the ache of having strained his eyes for too long. He looked down at his right hand, which was still holding the gun, his index finger hooking the trigger. Wendy was still dozing while Darren’s ghost and his friend were still sitting at the table, the food in front of them hardly touched. The space around him was him was buzzing with the old, familiar sounds of this auto repair shop he had called home for the last seven years.

Had his mind finally given in to his madness named ‘Darren’?

Shortly after the Ford left, disappearing beyond the never-ending highway, Zack saw Darren again. Sitting at the corner table where the pair had been and donning a costly dark suit instead of his usual hoodie. The face, however, was the teenage face Zack had gotten used to seeing.

Zack laughed, pressing the gun’s muzzle to his temple…

… and found it an empty gun.

Epilogue

Tristan loosened the cerulean tie around his neck. The air-conditioner in their car seemed powerless against this diabolical heat.

He started to regret taking this ‘runaway’ adventure with Elijah. A break from sire line war and constant family drama, with crazy sister and psycho brother to boot, Elijah had told him and he had been convinced. He must have been under compulsion back then, for now he regretted it deeply, along with the sour fact that neither of them had brought anything other than suits.

“You missed a spot,” Elijah casually remarked, holding out a handkerchief with one hand while the other was on the wheel.

Tristan flipped down a mirror attached to the roof and checked for said spot. Yet even when his face was clean, his jacket and shirt were beyond help.

Vampire blood was a nasty thing.

With an exasperated huff, Tristan ripped his tie, took off his jacket and carelessly threw them on the back seat. He considered getting rid of the shirt too but decided against it the very next second the idea was formed. Spending the rest of the journey in half-naked state wasn’t something he felt comfortable with.

“Well, it’s not every day that we stop at a backwater shop and I get shot in the face,” Tristan bleated. “Certainly a rare novelty.”

Elijah sniggered. “He had his eyes on you the moment we walked in. Still, I hadn’t imagined that he would do something to such extreme.”

“From what I saw from his mind, I wouldn’t call it ‘extreme’. That alone prompted me to spare his miserable life. Not without a small souvenir, of course.”

“What was it that you saw?”

Tristan smiled, reaching for the flask he kept in the car. He untwisted the cap and drank leisurely, using the time to stir Elijah’s curiosity.

“What if I told you that madman had been haunted by a ghost… one that was an adolescent doppelgänger of mine?”

End

[Dịch] Like It Rough

 

Final2

Disclaimer : Tui rất muốn sở hữu cả hai nhưng rất tiếc tui không sở hữu ai cả J. Hai quý vị này thuộc về NBC và Showtime.

(Nhưng cái hình minh họa là tui làm J)

Fandoms : Dracula (2013), Penny Dreadful (2014)

Rating : M

Pairing : Dracula/Alexander Grayson x Dorian Gray

Genres : fanfiction, crossover, hài, hiện đại, breaking the fourth wall (để cho đơn giản, hãy tưởng Charles Xavier và Erik Lehnsherr cùng ngồi xem X-Men: First Class, breaking the fourth wall chính là vậy đó)

Characters : Dracula/Alexander Grayson – ma cà rồng (chứ không bạn nghĩ là gì?!), Dorian Gray – người bất tử (tui cũng không biết anh này thuộc thể loại gì đâu, biết là bất tử thôi)

Warnings: có nhắc tới BDSM, blood play, knife play… các thế loại. À, thêm ngôn ngữ không đứng đắn nữa – bản Eng đã không đứng đắn rồi nhưng tui nghĩ có thể khiến bản Việt bựa hơn nữa.

Summary : Dorian bị nghiện một bài hát Dracula cực, cực ghét.

Dorian dạo gần đây bị nghiện một bài hát.

Thực ra điều đó cũng không phải vấn đề nghiêm trọng gì cho cam bởi vì Dorian Gray lúc nào chẳng nghiện thứ này hay thứ kia. Ấy, đó là hậu quả của việc thừa mứa ba thứ mà nhân loại khao khát nhất: nhan sắc, tiền tài và sự bất tử. Vì cậu ta chẳng bao giờ phải nỗ lực đạt tới mục tiêu gì cả nên hiển nhiên cậu thường xuyên cảm thấy chán chường với cuộc sống bất tử của mình. Gần như bệnh kinh niên rồi. Luôn luôn tìm kiếm những cảm xúc mới, đó là châm ngôn sống của cậu: những điều mới lạ lôi cuốn cậu, khiến cậu say đắm một thời gian, nhưng đến khi cảm giác mới mẻ qua đi, cậu liền vứt bỏ chúng để truy cầu thứ khác. Vòng tròn cứ vậy lặp lại, chẳng gì tồn tại bên cậu quá lâu.

Chuyện Doria nghiện một bài hát nào đó cũng chẳng phải vấn đề to tát gì với Alexander Grayson, người bất tử cùng chia sẻ căn biệt thự rộng thênh thang, đầy đủ tiện nghi với Dorian Gray. Khác với ‘người bạn cùng nhà’ của mình, Alexander lúc nào cũng có mục tiêu để theo đuổi. Chinh phạt thị trường Châu Á chẳng hạn. Hay ghi tên mình vào danh sách những người giàu nhất thế giới của tạp chí Forbes. Thỉnh thoảng, mục tiêu của anh là sở hữu một series phim truyền hình của riêng mình. Trong bộ phim đó, Dracula là nhân vật chính vừa đẹp trai, vừa hấp dẫn, vây quanh bởi hàng tá người đẹp còn Jonathan Harker là kẻ xấu lúc nào cũng ghen ghét với Dracula. Tất nhiên Alexander sẽ thủ vai chính chứ còn ai khác. Không còn một Dracula già khụ, da trắng bệch, đeo răng nanh nhựa và mặc đồ quái đản mà các nhà làm phim Hollywood trước giờ vẫn khoái đưa lên màn ảnh: đây sẽ là một Dracula của thời đại mới, người sở hữu gu thời trang hoàn hảo và đầu óc của một doanh nhân thành đạt, nhìn xa trông rộng. Tiếc là chẳng hiểu sao dự án phim bị hủy ngay sau khi season 1 kết thúc, vì vậy Alexander lại có thêm mục tiêu mới: hồi sinh series phim để anh có thể tiếp tục sắm vai ‘Alexander Grayson’ (và một phần không nhỏ là vì ai kia rất hâm mộ Katie McGrath*). Nghe Alexander nói xong, Dorian bĩu môi. Con người này đúng là chỉ biết tự làm khó mình. Sao không bỏ tiền mua quách cả đài truyền hình và ê-kíp sản xuất rồi muốn làm bao nhiêu season chẳng được? Alexander cười khẩy. Đấy, thấy bản chất căn bệnh chán chường kinh niên của Dorian chưa?

Quay lại nào. Thực ra Alexander không quan tâm Dorian bị nghiện bài hát chết dẫm nào; vấn đề khiến vị vương công xứ Wallachia một thời phiền não chính là việc anh ghét bài hát chết dẫm đó như anh từng hận Hội Kỵ Sỹ Rồng và những kẻ liên quan đến chúng. Anh có cảm tưởng nếu mình gặp ca sĩ của bài hát đó giữa thanh thiên bạch nhật, anh cũng không ngần ngại bóp chết gã, hoặc ả. Giọng hát nghe không ra là nam nữ – thêm một điểm đáng ghét nữa.

Đây không phải lần đầu Dorian nghiện một thứ gì đó Alexander chán ghét. Vài năm trước, Dorian bị Marilyn Manson hớp hồn và cậu say mê nghe ‘ả’ gào thét (nghĩa đen đấy nhé) từ sáng sớm tới tối mịt, khiến Alexander cũng muốn phát bệnh luôn. Đúng là cô ả xấu xí sở hữu giọng hát gớm ghiếc nhất mà mình rất không hân hạnh biết đến, vị ma cà rồng chúa đã nghĩ, đến khi Dorian nhẹ nhàng chỉnh anh, “Đó là đàn ông. Marilyn Manson là nghệ danh thôi.”

Vậy thì gã đàn ông xấu xí sở hữu giọng hát gớm ghiếc nhất mà mình rất không hân hạnh biết đến. Alexander không thể nào hiểu nổi tại sao một người đàn ông cao trên mét tám lại muốn được gọi bằng một cái tên phụ nữ. Vào thời xưa, khiến vua chúa nhầm lẫn như vậy là một đại tội, đáng bị chém cả nhà. Tên Marilyn Manson đó nên cảm thấy may mắn vì không sinh nhằm vào thời Vlad Tepes tại vị.

Nhưng kể cả khi nghiện Marilyn Manson như vậy, Dorian khi đó cũng không bật nhạc 24 giờ một ngày, bảy ngày trong tuần như bây giờ. Chú ý nhé: ‘bật nhạc’ khác với ‘nghe nhạc’. Dorian khi đó chỉ nghe mấy bài hát gào rú của Marilyn Manson bằng chiếc iPod của mình (dù là cả khi lên giường, mấy lần khiến Alexander tức điên), còn hiện tại cậu đã nâng cơn nghiện của mình lên một tầng cao mới: cậu sắm hẳn một dàn âm thanh nổi để mình có thể “đắm chìm trong đê mê của ca từ và giai điệu” (lời cậu) bất khứ khi nào mình muốn, cũng tức là bất cứ khi nào cậu có mặt ở nhà, cũng tức là bất cứ khi nào Alexander có mặt ở nhà. Alexander cảm thấy lãnh địa của mình bị xâm lăng và kẻ thù này còn tệ hại gấp mấy lần bọn Thổ. Ít nhất bọn Thổ còn biết sợ Alexander và thủ đoạn của anh còn kẻ thù này thì không.

Rồi nó sẽ qua thôi, Alexander tự an ủi bản thân. Dorian có bao giờ dính với một thứ lâu dài đâu. Quá lắm là một tuần, rồi cậu sẽ chán ngấy nó như từng chán ngấy mọi thứ khác (trừ Alexander và cặp răng nanh của anh ra) và chính tay cậu sẽ quăng nó. Alexander chỉ cần nhẫn nhịn chờ đợi. Nhẫn nhịn. Chờ đợi.

Một ngày.

Hai ngày.

Ba ngày.

… Một tuần trôi qua.

Bài hát chết dẫm đó vẫn oanh oang cả biệt thự mỗi khi Dorian có mặt ở nhà. Cậu bật nó khi dùng bữa tối và khi tắm. Quá đáng hơn, cậu còn bật nó khi xem series phim truyền hình của Alexander – tắt âm thanh gốc đi và để bài hát đó thay cho nhạc nền mỗi phân đoạn. “Anh biết không, thân yêu, nhạc phim của anh thật sự chưa đủ kích thích,” Dorian bình luận vào một tối nọ. Đó là một trong những tối Dorian nổi hứng ở nhà nằm ườn trên ghế salon như một con mèo lười siêu bự trong bộ áo ngủ lụa và làm một cuộc marathon bất cứ series phim truyền hình nào có sẵn. “Có khi anh nên cân nhắc chọn bài hát này làm nhạc chủ đạo cho season 2. Đã Dracula một tay ôm Lucy, một tay ôm Mina rồi sao không làm nó sexy hơn một chút? Thêm vào vài cảnh sex bạo hay khỏa thân chẳng hạn. Không thì orgy cũng được. Phim gì đó của Showtime chiếu vào tối Chủ Nhật dựng cảnh đấy tốt lắm. Chắc vậy mà họ có thể làm tiếp season 2, season 3.”

…Trong khi phim anh thì ‘tèo em’ ngay từ season 1, ngụ ý rất rõ ràng.

Cơ bản thì Alexander rất yêu Dorian, thật đấy, nhưng có những lúc anh chỉ muốn bóp cổ cậu ta thôi (từng thử và không may là Dorian thích bị bóp cổ). Đây là một trong những lúc như vậy.

Những lúc khác là khi cậu bật bài hát đó trong khi cả hai đang làm tình, hoặc phang nhau, tùy tâm trạng hôm đó thế nào.

“We can get a little crazy just for fun, just for fun…”

(Mình có thể điên một chút cho vui, cho vui…)

Làm như vụ sex ‘đẫm máu’ của họ chưa đủ điên vậy. Chăn gối và ra trải giường của họ đều một màu đỏ thẫm dù cả hai đều không ưa màu sắc đó là có lý do cả. Một lần khi họ mới dọn về căn biệt thự này và chưa sắm sửa nội thất gì cả, cô giúp việc họ mới thuê đã khóc thét khi tháo ra giường mang giặt và phát hiện những bợt máu loang lổ trên đấy. Alexander phải thôi miên để cô quên đi toàn bộ ‘sự cố’ này trước khi cô bấm máy gọi 911. Cũng ít có mất công lắm. Thậm chí thảm lót nền cũng là màu đỏ vì thỉnh thoảng Dorian nổi hứng thích trên sàn thay vì giường ngủ hay kệ bếp như thường lệ.

 “Wanna wrestle with me baby

Here’s a sneak, little peek

You can dominate the game ‘cause I’m tough

I don’t play around that often

But when I do, I’m a freak

So you’d better believe

I like it rough…”

(Muốn vật lộn với em không cưng

Đây là một gợi ý nhỏ cho anh nè

Anh làm chủ cuộc chơi chỉ vì em dám chịu chơi

Em không ‘xõa’ thường xuyên đâu

Nhưng một khi đã ‘xõa’ rồi thì em là quái vật đấy

Vì vậy anh nên tin rằng

Em thích chơi bạo…)

Alexander chưa bao giờ nghi ngờ việc Dorian là một quái vật, một quái vật xinh đẹp thích sưu tập và treo đầy nhà những bức chân dung người chết có quỷ mới biết cậu tha từ đâu về. Bản thân anh cũng là một quái vật, ít nhất là tới khi Dorian phóng thích phần đó trong anh. Và một điều nữa, tần suất Dorian ‘xõa’ cao hơn nhiều so với tiêu chuẩn được cho là ‘lành mạnh’. Có lần cậu mang về nhà một bộ dao đủ hình dạng, kích cỡ và dụ Alexander chơi trò SM mà thành thật khuyên là bạn chỉ nên thử khi bạn là người bất tử có khả năng hồi phục mọi vết thương. Vậy là đêm ấy Alexander dành một nửa thời gian thử nghiệm từng con dao một trên làn da Dorian (không hối hận tý nào) và nửa còn lại liếm máu từ những ký hiệu cổ anh đã khắc lên thân người tình. Sau đêm ‘đẫm máu’ đó ra trải giường bị họ ném luôn vào lò sưởi.

Sau một tuần làm tình trên nền bài hát đó, Alexander quyết định mình đã chịu đựng đủ. Anh về nhà vào một tối nọ và đi thẳng vào phòng khách. Anh ngắm dàn âm thanh nổi một lúc rồi thản nhiên rút ra vài ngọn giáo đâm xuyên qua nó (đừng hỏi anh tìm mấy ngọn giáo đó ở đâu). Anh mỉm cười, cảm giác thỏa mãn y như xuyên cọc quân thù ngày xưa vinh quang. Anh biết hành vi vừa rồi hoàn toàn vô ích vì sáng hôm sau là Dorian lại rinh về một dàn mới nhưng có một đêm yên tĩnh vẫn còn hơn không.

Không may cho Alexander, anh rất nhanh nhận ra rằng dù không có dàn âm thanh thì bài hát chết bầm đó vẫn có thể tra tấn anh, dù âm thanh có nhỏ hơn một chút vì phát ra từ chiếc Vaio của Dorian.

Shit! Alexander ôm mặt. Làm sao mình có thể quên cái laptop được chứ?

Đỉnh điểm là Dorian đang hát theo và anh thực sự không thể ‘xuyên cọc’ người tình của mình để bắt cậu ta ngậm miệng được.

Phải không nhỉ?

“Push up into my body

Sink your teeth into my flesh…”

(Thúc vào cơ thể em

Cắn ngập răng vào da thịt em…)

Anh đẩy Dorian xuống sàn ngay khi điệp khúc đầu tiên cất lên. Giật vội cà vạt xuống, anh dùng nó trói tay Dorian lại sau lưng. Nhịp đập Dorian reo lên phấn khích dưới đầu ngón tay anh khi Alexander xé nát y phục hàng hiệu trên người họ.

Dorian dừng hát một khi anh ấn vào người cậu và cắn vào động mạch trên đùi cùng một lúc (một phần không nhỏ nhờ vào khả năng của ma cà rồng). Những tiếng rên rỉ thoát ra từ đôi môi cong như cánh cung Cupid của cậu dễ nghe hơn hẳn thứ âm nhạc rẻ tiền kia. Ngón tay cậu luồn vào tóc Alexander, đôi chân dài quấn lấy eo anh, gót chân ấn vào thắt lưng anh. Dorian hầu như không bao giờ nói chuyện khi làm tình nhưng đây là cách cậu nói “nhanh hơn”, “mạnh hơn” và “đừng ngừng lại”. Alexander chiều ý cậu.

Động tác của anh vô thức bắt nhịp với bài hát.

 “Give it till I beg, give me some more

Make me bleed, I like it rough

Like it rough, rough, rough…”

(Cho em đến khi em van xin, cho em nữa đi

Khiến em đổ máu đi, em thích chơi bạo

Thích chơi bạo, thích chơi bạo…)

Cảnh tượng sau những lần làm tình của họ không khác mấy hiện trường án mạng: đồ đạc đổ vỡ và máu văng khắp nơi. Dorian trần trụi nằm sấp trên sàn nhà, duỗi thẳng tứ chi. Alexander áp sát vào người cậu, liếm láp mấy giọt máu vương lại trên lưng cậu. Bài hát vẫn đang bật, tua lại lần thứ n trong đêm.

“Make me bleed, I like it rough

Like it rough, rough, rough…”

(Khiến em đổ máu đi, em thích chơi bạo

Thích chơi bạo, thích chơi bạo…)

Dorian đã lấy lại hơi để hát. Giọng cậu yếu ớt, hổn hển và bị gián đoạn bởi tiếng cười khúc khích xen vào.

“Em biết bài hát này làm anh cáu, đúng không?”

“Tất nhiên,” Dorian đáp đầy tự tin, “vì vậy em mới mở suốt tuần trước đấy. Kết quả thật… phi thường.”

Cậu kéo kéo dây trói trên cổ tay và cân nhắc việc không để những vết bầm bên dưới lành lại.

“Em đúng là đứa bệnh.”

Không rõ vì lời nói của Alexander hay vì cảm giác nhột nhạt trên lưng mà Dorian cười phá lên.

“Lần tới muốn chơi bạo, cứ nói là được,” Alexander chán nản thở dài.

“Nhưng nhìn anh nổi giận thực sự rất kích thích. Thêm lửa vào đam mê. Còn nữa, em rất thích tác phẩm anh tạo ra trong phòng khách. Không hổ danh Vlad Xuyên Cọc.”

“Mai vứt nó đi.”

“Còn khuya.”

Dorian đột nhiên quay lưng về phái Alexander và trước khi anh kịp lên tiếng phản đối thì cậu đã ngủ khì.

Đây cũng là cách cậu nói “miễn bàn luận thêm”.

Tối hôm sau, Alexander về nhà sau một cuộc cãi vã nảy lửa với ban quản trị và đập vào mắt anh là toàn bộ đồ đạc trong nhà đều bị xuyên cọc y hệt dàn âm thanh vắn số hôm qua. Dorian mỉm cười ngồi trên ghế salon. “Em mua được mấy ngọn giáo từ kho đạo cụ. Phim ‘bom xịt’ quá nên họ bán bớt đạo cụ để bù lỗ. Anh có cảm tưởng gì?” Dorian hỏi bằng giọng ngây thơ như thể cậu hoàn toàn không trông thấy đám mây đen sấm chớp đùng đùng lượn lờ trên đầu Alexander.

Thêm nữa, bài hát chết tiệt đó đang mở oang oang trong phòng khách.

“Make me bleed, I like it rough

Like it rough, rough, rough…”

(Khiến em đổ máu đi, em thích chơi bạo

Thích chơi bạo, thích chơi bạo…)

Alexander có cảm tưởng gì á? Alexander muốn giết người thì có.

Hết

*Katie McGrath là chị đóng Lucy trong NBC’s Dracula – bị Dracula biến thành ma cà rồng. Chị cũng đóng Morgana trong Merlin.

Tự dịch từ bản Eng Like It Rough để luyện tập khả năng viết tiếng Việt, và tự thấy quá ba chấm. Nói chung là cũng chém nhiều.

Vụ xỉ vả bài Flesh của Simon Curtis và Marilyn Manson là quan điểm của Alexander/Dracula chứ không phải của tui nhá J. Cá nhân tui thấy thì bài Flesh nên là character’s song của Dorian (có mấy ai lên cơn hứng tình vì bị cắn đứt tai như Dori đâu), cộng thêm vụ “sink your teeth into my flesh” nên càng hợp Alex, vậy là fic này ra đời.

Đây là tương lai hơi xa của một fic khác Why Won’t You Die? cũng ship Dracula x Dorian nhưng lấy bối cảnh Luân Đôn thế kỷ 19.

[Fanfic] Jade-Winged Butterfly

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom : The Originals

Rating : K+

Pairing : Gilijah – Elijah Mikaelson x Gia

Genres : fanfiction, alternate universe

Characters: Elijah Mikaelson, Gia, Rebekah Mikaelson, mention of Niklaus Mikaelson and others

Warning: canonical character death

Summary: In his dreams, they were all vampires, his siblings, his beloved wife and even himself. In his dreams his own brother murdered his wife in front of his eyes.

A butterfly lands upon your finger, unaware that it will lead to her tragic end.”

“Gia, be a sweetheart and take off your daylight ring.”

The order was given and Gia obeyed, regardless of her willingness.

The ring hit the brick-covered ground with a ‘clink’ and Gia burst into flame in front of his desperate eyes.

The sun was never kind to the likes of them, even to a beautiful and innocent creature such as Gia.

He screamed and screamed, but neither his voice nor his tears could stop the flame from consuming Gia.

His darling Gia. No more.

A jade-winged butterfly soared from the charred flesh of her corpse and fluttered around him for a split second. Vanished from sight.

He was screaming still when his eyes shot open.

His voice disturbed the woman by his side, robbing her from her sweet dream.

“Darling, we really don’t need an alarm clock if you keep making such noise so early in the morning,” said the dark-haired woman in a sleep-laden tone, rubbing her heavy eyelids.

Sweat-soaked and wide-eyed, he stared at her for a minute, before hugging her form tightly as though his whole life depended on it.

“There, there, big boy,” she cooed, softly patting his mussed dark hair. A jade-winged butterfly was gleaming on her forefinger, catching a feeble sun beam peaking through the crack in the curtain. “It’s alright, I’m here with you.”

He remained silent as he pressed his face to her naked bosoms while she was soothing him with small, tender strokes on his hair and cheeks. At times like this she became the mother, and he a big, scared child in her arms seeking consolidation after a bad dream; at other times, he was a trustworthy gentleman with strong shoulders for her to lean on and strong arms that she liked to be wrapped in.

“That weird-shit vampire dream sequence again?”

She felt him nodding against her breast. “What was it this time?”

“You took off your daylight ring and the sun burnt you. I couldn’t do anything…”

“So you were screaming?”

Nodded.

“It worries me, darling, that you keep having those nonsensical dreams. I think you need to pay Cami a visit. She may be able to help.”

“What should I tell her then? That I have these recurring dreams where my wife and I are vampires?”

She chuckled. “Let’s hear what Freud has anything to say about it.” Her violinist fingers were weaving in his dark hair, messaging his scalp. To her un-surprise, her husband purred softly as though a satiated big cat. “You have a weird fixation with fire, don’t you? Remember the time you tried to fix the stove and ended up nearly burning our house down?”

“That was an unfortunate accident,” he mumbled, nuzzling his cheek to her neck. His stubble caused her to squirm in his arms. “And no, I’m sure as hell I don’t have any ‘weird fixation’ with fire.”

“You’re secretly unsatisfied with me?” She turned his head so that she could look at him in the eyes, her own black eyes squinting and her eyebrows knitted.

“When you’re trying to be serious but in fact not, yes.”

Her attempted serious look was wiped away as soon as she broke into a peal of hearty laughter, and she squeezed his torso with her arms. “Can never fool my wise husband, can I?”

“You’ve tried,” he said, finding his distress yielding to her contagious laughter. “To no avail.”

“But really, darling, I’m worried for you.” She was wiping mirthful tears from her eyes, her voice quivering with her effort to quell her laugh. “You’ve got to talk to Cami. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the best psychiatrist in town.”

“I have no doubt about her credibility. She deserves worldly praise for having cured my brother’s psychopathic tendencies after all. All right, I’ll pay her a visit, perhaps a nice lunch in her favorite restaurant on Bourbon Street. Provided I survive the meeting with the board of directors this morning.”

He proceeded to climb off her and the bed but she caught him by his arm, holding him in place.

“You can always let Nik and Bex deal with them for a change. You know, taking a day off, maybe a short vacation. Just you and me.” She pressed his strong hand to her cheek. “You’ve been stretching yourself recently and I think your bad dreams can be traced back to your stress.”

“Nik and Bex are precisely the reason I have to be present. Always count on them to scare the crap out of the directors.” He placed a light kiss on her hand that was holding his. “Nice ring, by the way. Where did you get it?”

“A voodoo’s shop,” she whispered, trying for mystique. “It is said to be a magical object with immense powers.”

“A magical object with immense powers sold at a reasonable price I bet?” He was unimpressed.

She smiled and took off her butterfly ring. A frightened look immediately crossed his face. The way she did it, sliding the ring off the forefinger of her left hand with her right, was too similar to the horrifying scene in his dream.

His wife did not fail to notice it.

“Darling, I’m not going to burst into flame,” she said, pulling at the curtain. The early sun poured onto her bare skin like soft liquid gold. “See?”

He did not know he had breathed a sigh of relief.

She gently took his hand and placed the ring in his palm, raising his fine, dark eyebrows. “Take it with you. It’s a good-luck charm. Jade wards off evils, bad lucks and… nightmares.”

“Who said that? The seller?”

“I said that, OK.” She folded his fingers around the tiny object. “Besides, this way I can be with you all day.”

“Cheesy,” he complained, but tried putting on the ring nonetheless. It barely fit his little finger. “Nik and Bex are going to laugh their asses off once they see it.”

“Let the envious children laugh,” she said, pulling his head down so that her lips met his.

They exchanged another kiss before he stepped in his Mercedes. Immaculate in dark suit, with an air of authority to match, the CEO of the Mikaelsons Corp.

“Don’t forget my concert tonight, OK?”

Through the open window he heard his wife’s voice calling after him. A smile playing on his lips, he placed the ring on the dashboard. Sunlight light passed through the transparent wings of the butterfly, exposing its eternal flaws – perhaps the only precious stone to glorify in its imperfection. A beauty so honest yet so exquisite. Just like his beloved wife.

He turned on the radio. They were playing some French song on a random channel. “Jade butterfly” was the only thing he was able to catch. The song was a tad too mellow for his usual taste but it was good nonetheless. Before long he found himself humming with the music.

The jade-winged butterfly fluttered around him jovially before landing on his finger. He yearned to touch it but fear of crushing the delicate creature prevented him from doing so.

“You shouldn’t be here. The stress on your human body will be too much –”

“Don’t tell me Niklaus daggered you again!”

His sister sounded so angry but was looking so sad in front of him. She did not appear in the form of Eva Sinclair like he remembered seeing her the last time. It was understandable though: in this realm every soul appeared as they truly were.

“He did not. It was I who did,” he answered her calmly. The horror-stricken look on her beautiful face brought a needle to his heart. It ached him to know that he could erase that look with a few of his words, but just for once he did not want to. “It is best that you go back, Rebekah –”

“Tell me where you are lying…” she cried. Sounded distant when it reached his ears. “… so that I can find you and undagger you -”

“Then what, sister?”

This aloofness sounded even strange to him, stranger when it was coating the tone he was speaking to his beloved Rebekah, whom he held nothing but utmost adoration. The little sister that was always caught in her brothers’ selfish webs.

“What about Hope? What about Hayley? What about your promise to her?”

“A promise I never made,” he corrected, watching her face crumpled in despair. “As for Hope, I count on you and Freya, and…”

He paused to take a deep breath. The thought of his brother increased the agony in his chest ten-fold. “… and Niklaus’ love. He can treat anyone with cruelty, but never his daughter, never Hope.”

“But we need you, Elijah,” she pled, tears choking her voice. “We need you as we have always needed you.”

She bit her lips till they bled, as though fighting herself for the words her mouth wanted to spill. She lost. “Gia is dead. She doesn’t need you anymore. But we are still living, cursed as we are, and we need you, Elijah. We need you as a family. Always and forever. Please, brother.”

He felt that he should be infuriating at the mention of Gia’s name. Like she had been nothing more than Niklaus’ words: “collateral damage”. Instead he only felt a profound sadness, amplified by the sweetness of Gia’s early-morning smile when she folded his fingers around the ring.

The butterfly on his finger shook her wings ever slightly.

“I am sorry, Rebekah. You have to leave. Your current human body is not able to endure your prolonging in this realm.”

“No, don’t send me off, Elijah! No!” desperately she cried. The jade-winged butterfly took flight from his hand and circled around her. Her image blurred and blurred, until he was alone in this vast expanse of nothingness.

The little creature returned to his hand like a faithful lover.

He opened his eyes just in time to see that he was about to collide with a monster truck. He veered his car sharply to the side, avoiding the hand of Death by a hairbreadth.

Panting heavily, he looked to his phone, laid on the passenger seat. Nik was calling. Probably just Bex using their brother’s phone.

He did not understand why and how he could have dozed off while driving. It was unlike him at all. Moreover, he remembered well his dream. The young woman’s anguished cries that brought a vague pain to his chest even now. She had Bex’s face and she was speaking with Bex’s voice. She was Bex, he knew, or at least her projection in his peculiar vampire dreams. It was not unusual to see his siblings in them: Freya, Finn, Nik, Kol, Bex and even the late Henryk. Bex was a vampire, an Original to be exact, like himself and the rest of them, save Freya and Nik. He shuddered at the thought of his own speech in the dream, of what Nik had done. To Gia. He thanked God, or whoever above that all of those horrible things stayed within the boundaries of the dream world.

He glanced at the dashboard, finding the butterfly ring shining under sunlight. He imagined it flapping its exquisite wings and soaring. But always it returned to his hand. He touched it, feeling a coolness beneath his fingertips despite the sun’s heat. Good thing it had dragged him out of the dream. A magical good-luck charm indeed.

He picked up the phone and was unsurprised to hear Bex on the speaker, mingling with Nik’s incoherent voice in the background. Mostly complaints about Bex’s fussiness. He knew his siblings well enough to tell.

“Hello Bex, I’m on my way. Just traffic. Don’t worry…”

A butterfly lands upon your finger, unaware that it will lead to her tragic end.”

“But a jade-winged butterfly endures. She will flap her wings till the end of time.” 

End

All the Cherik Love Around – Intro [Updated]

Basically, it’s an idea for a multi-chapter Cherik AU crossover which is unlikely to be translated into proper fanfiction since the author has neither the time nor the effort to do so. So anyone who’s interested in the idea and wants to write a fanfic based on this universe and characters, please feel free to take it. All you need to do is giving me a word and a little credit once the fic comes out. I’d appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

 

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom(s) : multiple fandoms – X-Men: First Class (2011), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014), Children of the Dune, 300 (2006), Prometheus (2012), Inglorious Basterds (2009), Hex etc.

Rating : K+

Pairing(s) : Cherik/Mcfassy  – Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier, Stelios x Leto Atredeis II, David 8 x David 9 (Nine). And other minor pairings

Genres : Fanfiction, slash, humor, angst (mostly teen-angst), high school

Setting:

Shaw’s Highs – a school for the privileged and not-so-privileged students from all over the globe who have successfully passed the ‘privileged’ series of exams orchestrated by the Principal himself. The series of exams change annually and nobody on Earth could have the slightest idea of what the eccentric, wicked Principal and his equally eccentric and wicked staff have up their sleeves.

Characters:

  • Major Characters:

Charles Francis Xavier: a straight-A nerd whose only hobbies are studying, solving algebras and reading books. In order to escape from his neglecting mother and his abusive stepfather and stepbrother, he tries so hard to pass the series of entrance exams to get into Shaw’s Highs because the school has a dormitory which allows its students to stay over the weekends and holidays (or life) should they want to. Beneath the sweet, gentle and polite face lies the bruises he’s received from his childhood to teenage.

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Charles Francis Xavier

Erik Magnus Lehnsherr: A problematic German-Jewish student who gets himself into fights too often that he got expelled at least thrice before (dude has a lot of issues). Erik didn’t pass the entrance exams; in fact, on the day of the exams he got himself into fights with some thugs and didn’t show up. He was accepted into the school because the Principal, who had seen him fighting, took a weird liking to him.

The smoking creates the 'bad boy' image, which I intend for Erik in this fic
Erik Magnus Lehnsherr – the smoking creates the ‘bad boy’ image, which I intend for Erik in this fic

Stelios Atromitos: A Greek-rooted student who is a formidable player of the school’s football team ‘Sparta’. Boisterous and fun-loving, Stelios is very popular among the female students. He’s best buddies with Leonidas “Leo” and Astinos “Astie”. Stelios and his buddies got into the school because the Vice-Principal thought these energetic boys could save the school’s football team which hadn’t won a single match in the national sports game for… decades. Heck, the boys were even given a scholarship!

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Stelios Atromitos

Leto Atredeis II:  Leto is a transferred student who comes from a god-know-where country; his country can’t be located on Google Maps and many students doubt if such country even exists on Earth or Leto is just a liar who wants to make himself appear exotic and special. In fact, the country is real and Leto is the Crown Prince. Tired of the life of royalty, Leto ran away to America and applied to the school as a normal student. He passed the wicked exams with such flying colors that the Principal and his staff had to roll their eyes and wondered if the boy was an alien. Leto has literally shining blue eyes.

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Leto Atredeis II

David “Eighth” Vickers:  Before the arrival of Leto the Alien, there’s David the Alien- a true genius with an IQ almost doubling an average student’s. Calm and overly polite, David always wears a faint smile on his face no matter what people say to him; even if you insult him, he’ll just reply with a smile. Other students kind of avoid interacting with David since they think he’s creepy, robot-like. The truth is, despite his genius, David suffers from severe inferior complex, largely due to he’s only adopted by Mr. Weylands and thus, often bullied by his foster sister Meredith Vickers. David also has dual personalities – one being overly mature, an old head on young shoulders and the other being unbelievably childish, a trickster who pulls all sorts of pranks on his foster sister to get even with her (no one suspects him though).

david_8
David “Eighth” Vickers

Nine D. Turner: Nine is a cheeky, lovable boy who comes from a very large family. His parents have nine children and he’s the youngest, hence the name. Hardworking and with a bit of luck, Nine managed to get accepted to Shaw’s Highs. From the very first day at school, Nine’s admired David’s talent; he tries to make friends with David despite other students’ telling him how weird David is. Nine also notices David’s flawless smiles are genuinely fake and he wants to get beyond David’s façade. Eventually, he discovers David’s secret.

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Nine D. Turner

Azazeal: Thousands years ago, Azazeal was an angel, the All-Father’s most favorite. But that was before he broke the law by falling in love with a mortal. Enraged, the All-Father sent both him and his mortal lover into the furnace, burning them to ash. Their ash scattered the Earth, giving birth to their myriad reincarnations (their ‘fragments’). Azazeal’s twin Ashtela (original character) was only able to gather parts and parts of Azazeal to revive him. Now an Alterum (The Other who is no angel, human or demon) Azazeal wandered the Earth aimlessly; if he encountered his or his deceased lover’s fragments, he’d stay and watch until their mortal life ended. One day, he comes to Shaw’s Highs and finds 3 fragments of himself (Erik, Stelios and David) and 3 fragments of his lover (Charles, Leto and Nine). He stays and watches them fall in love and be happy together, something he and his lover failed to do.

Azazeal-hex-30845231-2000-1306
Azazeal
  • Minor Characters:

School Staff:

Sebastian Shaw: the Almighty Principal of Shaw’s Highs. World’s most eccentric, wicked miser, Sebastian attacks the idea of spending money with the ferocity of a great white shark sensing blood. Unfortunately, Shaw has a Vice-Principal and an assistance/ school counselor who just love to test the limit of his blood pressure by spending (his) money.

Mr. (Evil) Principal
Mr. (Evil) Principal who hates to spend money. This is the tux he’s worn every events since 19xx (it’s Everlasting btw)

Nathaniel Essex (aka Mr. Sinister): Vice-Principal and a narcissistic nihilist. Mr. Sinister’s absolutely in love with the finer things in life; everything has to be ‘perfect’, and ‘perfect’ in his dictionary means stylish, exquisite and extremely expensive. Despite his blatant eccentricity, Mr. Sinister’s dutiful to the school and students; he wants only the best for them, which means he won’t bat an eye when spending the school’s budget, much to Shaw’s dismay.

The Vice Principal who loves to spend money
The Vice Principal who loves to spend money

Emma Frost: Shaw’s assistance and the school’s counselor who, most of the time, messes with her students rather than actually helps them. Her ‘favorites’ are Erik and David (poor boys). She loves to enrage Shaw by siding with Mr. Sinister and she enjoys their (Shaw and Nathaniel’s) passionate’ and ‘romantic’ love quarrels.

Emma Frost

Azazel: The silent school guard who’s often rumored to be a former Russian mobster. He upholds the school’s morality and discipline by scaring the craps out of any students who have the slightest intention of making troubles. The only student who isn’t afraid of Azazel is Erik Lehnsherr.

Janos Quested: The silent school janitor who oddly always wears a suit while working (looks good on him though). Outsiders sometimes mistake him for the Principal, who often wears (much) less fancy outfit.

Frank: The enigmatic music teacher at Shaw’s Highs. Aside from his enormous music talent and the large papier-mâché head that hides away his true face, everything about Frank is a mystery. Some said he’s the Principal’s disfigured son. Some believed the Vice-Principal picked him off the street like a stray cat/dog. Some thought he was an escaped guinea pig from a secret governmental lab. Frank doesn’t make any comment on any of those rumors. Frank seems to be aware of Azazeal’s existence as he often looks up to the tree where the Alterum resides. But even if he knows something, Frank says not a word about it.

Frank - the eccentric music teacher
Frank – the eccentric music teacher

Students:

Ghanima Altreideis: Leto’s twin sister who comes to America to find her brother. She finds him at Shaw’s Highs and once she sees the school, she immediately decides to study with him, much to their father’s dismay. Ghanima says she wants to take care of her dearest brother; however, despite her words, Leto suspects she has eyes for someone at the school. For some unknown reason, she’s only one in the entire school who can see Azazeal and speak with him.

Ghanima – Leto’s twin

Raven Darkholme: Charles’s girl-next-door and childhood friend who comes to Shaw’s Highs simply because Charles is there and she will be with him (to make sure her friend’s NOT bullied by anyone). She’s leader of the cheerleading squad.

Raven - girl next door
Raven – girl next door

Henry “Hank” McCoy: Charles’s first friend at the school. Like Charles, Hank’s a nerd and he’s already infatuated with Raven the first time he sees her. To get her attention, Hank joins the football team. He plays surprisingly well and other students start calling him by the nickname ‘Beast’.

Hank - the 'Beast'
Hank – the ‘Beast’

Meredith Vickers: David’s foster sister who’s always jealous of her foster brother because their father, Peter Weyland favors David more than her. Her jealousy turns to anger and hatred and she directs them toward David, bullying him. Meredith is never aware of David’s pranks although she’s usually victimized to them.

Meredith Vickers – the mean sister

Charles Allen Hicox & Charles Allen Hicox’s brother: A pair of identical twins: the older one, Charles Allen Hicox, is calm, collected, polite and mature well beyond his age; the younger one, only referred as Charles’s brother or Little Charles because the two refuse to disclose his true name, is impulsive and childish well beyond his age. In spite of the blatant differences, the brothers are splitting image of each other, not only identical in face and body build but also in hairstyle, hair color and sometimes, clothes. The twins love to masquerade as each other and well they do, completely fooling everyone around. The true reason for them to be able to study at Shaw’s Highs remains a mystery; however there are several speculations: their parents having ‘personal relationship’ with the Principal is one and the list goes on. The twins enter Shaw’s Highs one year later than Charles, Erik, Leto etc; by which time other students have already gotten used to seeing people with the same faces parading around the school.

Despite being juniors, the twins rival (and may even triumph over) David in terms of creepiness.

Charles Allen Hicox
Charles Allen Hicox
'Little Charles'
‘Little Charles’

Parents:

Archibald Hicox (Archie Hicox): The father of Charles Allen Hicox and Little Charles. His wife dies giving birth to the twins and he’s been a single father since then. In the past, he tried to see a few women in hope of finding the twins a kind stepmother; however, as most were disturbed by Charles and Little Charles’s (strange) behaviors, Archie eventually gave up. A former movie star, Archie now has long retired from his acting career and works as a freelance movie critic; his skill with words is no less impressive than his acting skill and he’s earned a status among his peers. He’s spent a lot of time and effort homeschooling the boys and will probably continue to do so till they fully grow up if not for Sebastian Shaw’s offer. It turns out Archie Hicox and the Principal do have a past relationship (whatever it is!).

The days when he was in acting career - that explains his Nazi uniform
The days when he was in acting career – that explains his Nazi uniform

*Archie and both his sons are Azazeal’s ‘fragments’, which explains their nearly identical look.

Though Archie remains a single father, he isn’t strictly ‘single’; he has a partner: Hugo Stiglitz.

Hugo Stiglitz: Archie’s flatmate and… bedmate, Hugo is currently running a convenience store. His silence, his cold demeanor and his scars on exposed skin speak of his dark past before meeting Archie: an ex-gang member convicted of murder who spent a few years in prison. “Tenderness” is the last word people would use to describe Hugo Stiglitz, yet, the callous man is very gentle to Archie’s twin sons, especially Little Charles, resulting in the boys being generally more attached to him than to their own father.

If you arent' Archie or his sons, don't mess with Hugo (and expect to come home in one piece)
If you arent’ Archie or his sons, don’t mess with Hugo (and expect to come home in one piece)

Elizabeth Turner: Elizabeth is Nine’s mother and she’s a psychiatrist who often does voluntary works at the orphanages, helping the children. It turns out she knew David from the time at the orphanage, before he was adopted by Mr. Peter Weyland. She adored him and David saw her as a mother figure. Elizabeth would have adopted David if she and her husband haven’t had too many children already. This has upset David tremendously until the day he meets her again. Beside Nine, Elizabeth is probably the only one who’s aware that David has dual personalities.

Elizabeth Turner

Sharon Xavier: Charles Xavier’s mother who has become an alcoholic after her husband’s death. Though she’s aware of the conflict between her new husband and her son, Sharon doesn’t seem to care. That Charles has chosen to leave the house is more a relief than a loss to her.

Kurt Marko: Sharon’s new husband and Charles’s stepfather. For some reasons, Kurt despises Charles and thus, turns a blind eye every time Cain Marko, his own son, bullies his stepson.

And several other characters.

All the Cherik Love Around – Scenarios [1]

All the Cherik Love Around

*You may want to read the Intro first.

 

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom : multiple fandoms: X-Men – First Class (2011), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014), Children of the Dune, 300 (2006), Prometheus (2012), Hex etc.

Rating : K+

Pairings : Cherik- Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier, Stelios x Leto Atredeis II, David 8 x David 9 (Nine). And other minor pairings

Genres : Fanfiction, slash, humor, angst (mostly teen-angst), high school

Characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Stelios Atromitos, Leto Atredeis II, David “Eighth” Vickers, Nine D. Turner, Azazeal, Sebastian Shaw, Nathaniel Essex, Emma Frost, Ghanima Atredeis, Raven Darkholme, Henry “Hank” McCoy, Azazel, Janos Quested etc.

Scenerio 1Charles, Nine & Leto

The first day of the Fall semester, three freshmen, Charles, Nine & Leto meet each other for the first time.

Charles, Nine, Leto: *staring at each other unblinking*

Charles *thinking*: Doppelgängers?? Not one but two??? Am I going to die*?

Leto *thinking*: Oh, I have identical triplets. Wait, I can’t have identical triplets. What makes Ghanima then?

It is Nine who breaks the awkward silence by taking out his phone and call his pa and ma to ask, which undoubtedly causes a ruckus at his home.

After a while, they all come to a conclusion that they are neither triplets nor doppelgängers, just unrelated strangers who look a little alike. Leto smartly points out that perhaps they aren’t so identical, as Charles’s eyes are ocean-blue, Nine’s are sky-blue while his are sapphire-blue, and glowing.

The boys shake hands, make friends and part way to find their own class.

As for Erik, Stelios and David, they have never really had a chance to see each other: Stelios is either on the football field or hanging out with his buddies Leo and Astie, or hanging out with Leo and Astie on the football field; Erik is usually found at some deserted corner of the school, sleeping or smoking (or both) and David is almost 24/7 in the abandoned lab behind the backyard (when he’s not having class period). When they finally see each other (thanks to Charles, Nine and Leto), they’re rather cool about the fact that they look identical, except for hair color, hairstyle and choice of outfit.

*Note: there’s a legend that if you see your doppelgänger, you’re going to die soon.

Scenario 2Stelios & Leto

That Prince Leto has the worst sense of direction is a national truth back in his kingdom. So naturally, when he comes to Shaw’s Highs (which is built like a whacky maze, all thanks to Mr. Vice-Principal), he’s lost. As he’s trying to find his way out (and failing epically), Leto runs into Stelios. Being the chivalric hero always ready to rescue the damsel in distress (?), Stelios just grabs Leto’s hand and takes the boy to the football field, introducing him to his team, Sparta. The whole team’s thoroughly impressed by Leto’s surprising stamina and speed, despite his small, lean frame. Eventually, Stelios coaxes him into joining the football team.

Scenario 3Charles & Erik

Charles has the highest scores in his class.

Erik has the lowest scores in his class.

Charles and Erik happen to be in the same class.

Charles lacks a few extra credits to earn the school scholarship. His homeroom teacher suggests he should earn the credits by fulfilling an assigned task. Since he wants to get the scholarship (which allows him to use the dormitory as he likes during the weekends and holidays in one year- a bizarre scholarship almost no students wants), Charles agrees.

His task is to help the student with the lowest scores in class to improve his study records.

In short, his task is tutoring Erik.

Charles has confidence in himself that he can help Erik get better.

Soon as he speaks to Erik for the very first time in the entire semester, Charles’s confidence shatters.

Erik is as smart as Charles and he obviously needs no help. His problem is that he doesn’t bother to study.

Now, it’s Charles that needs Erik’s help if he really wants that scholarship.

Scenario 4Ghanima, Erik, Stelios, David and Azazeal

It is Ghanima’s first time to come to Shaw’s Highs, a place as large as her palace back home (and far more bizarre). And since she’s Leto’s twin, the princess shares her brother’s horrible sense of direction.

So, she gets lost.

First, she runs into Stelios, who enthusiastically grabs her hand (we assume this is Stelie’s bad habbit when seeing beautiful boy/girl getting lost) and offers to help her find Leto. Mildly disturbed by his boisterousness, Ghanima refuses his offer, receiving only his directions.

It is a mistake and naturally, she gets lost again.

Second, she runs into David, whose childish personality is currently reigning. Despite fully knowing Ghanima takes him for Stelios, David doesn’t bother to clear the misunderstanding. He calmly smiles and suggests she should talk to the Principal. He’s nice (?) enough to send her off with a detailed (and highly confusing) hand-drawn map to the Principal’s office.

It would be a wonder if Ghanima didn’t get lost.

Frustrated, she runs into Erik, who is dozing off on the grass. Annoyed, Erik grunts slightly and gets up and off to find another place to continue his adventure in dreamland, leaving behind a very confused Ghanima.

Erik would have beaten her for disturbing his sleep if Ghanima wasn’t a girl. Aggressive as he is, still, Erik will never hit a girl, no matter how much that girl enrages him.

Terribly lost and infuriated, this time, Ghanima runs into Azazeal, who is lying leisurely (but not inelegantly) on a sturdy branch of the enormous tree of unknown species right in the middle of the schoolyard. Not realizing that she’s run into four different people (who happen to share the same face), Ghanima erupts, her molten fury pouring down the poor and clueless Azazeal.

That this little lady can see and speak to him piques Azazeal’s interest and the former angel offers to lead her to her brother, Leto.

Thus begins the princess and the Alterum*’s unusual friendship.

*Note: Alterum – “The Other”, as referring to Azazeal’s not being angel, human or demon

To be continue (?)

26 Shades of Mind and Metal (U-Z)

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom : X-Men: First Class (2011), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Rating : from K+ to M

Pairing : Cherik- Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier (X-Men: First Class and X-Men: Days of Future Past)

Genres : Fanfiction, slash, humor, fluff, angst, dark, AU etc. (depends on each snippet)

Characters : Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto), Charles Xavier (Professor X), Henry Phillip “Hank” McCoy (Beast), Raven (Mystique) etc.

Warnings : spoilers for First Class and Days of Future Past, mpeg, character’s death, violence, shark joke etc. (again, depends on each snippet)

Summary : An alphabetical collection of snippets revolving around the relationship of Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto) and Charles Xavier (Professor X)

———-

U-Z

———-

source: pixiv.net
source: pixiv.net

U – Utopia

Utopia – A world where mutants and humans coexist peacefully.

“Such thing never exists, Charles. Peace was, is and never will be an option.”

His voice, soft and gentle like a lover’s breath as he peeled off his leather gloves, fingers ghosting over the smooth surface, feeling the cold beneath bare skin.

Amidst the Inferno, the verdant green hill where Erik was standing was an untouchable utopia. From here he looked down, steel blue eyes boring coldly into a group of humans being ushered to his feet.

The last Homo sapiens on planet Earth.

“Have mercy, please.”

“We were just following orders… please. We didn’t want to…”

“Please… “

Throughout the pleas and cries, Erik maintained a deadpan expression. Yet, hidden under the sleeves of his suit, his fingers were gripping the cold stone with such force that his skin cracked and blood seeped out.

He burned the world to find them and now they were begging him to have mercy?

The irony.

Still…

If Charles were here, would he have mercy?

Hah!

It didn’t matter. Charles wasn’t here. Erik was. And Erik knew no mercy.

With a wave of his hand, he gave the command to Pyro standing silently beside.

Flesh and bones turned to coal, and coal turned to ash.

A scarce wind swept over the burnt ground, carrying the ash to land on an old tomb stone on which the name once sharply carved had faded with time.

Charles Francis Xavier.

Ruhe in frieden, mein freund.”

May you find Heaven above, because down here, it’s only Hell.

V – Vengeance

Charles Xavier wasn’t exactly the vengeful type but he wouldn’t shy from exacting his vengeance on his old friend, Erik Lehnsherr. As a result, Angel, Azazel, Emma and Janos were unable to look at their leader and not imagine the almighty Magneto with fiery red wig, fishnet stockings and go-go boots.

By the way, Raven was cool with the whole nightmarish idea of Magneto in drag; she even found it a sure turn-on!

One day, feigning unaware of the other mutants’ yelling “No” (mouthing, actually) at her, Raven mentioned it to Erik.

All hell broke loose.

W – Wigs

“Uhm, Erik…”

One random and lazy afternoon, after they’d just finished their third chess match, Charles spoke up, his tone slightly trembling and absent of his usual confidence.

“What is it Charles?”

“That man, Logan, said… in the future I’ll be bald, like… without a single hair.”

Charles finished, warily monitoring Erik’s reactions. The mental bender just sat in his seat, frozen in time, staring at Charles, steel blue eyes unblinking.

Charles gulped, feeling particularly uneasy with the way Erik stared at him. Silence seemed to stretch out for eternity as neither of the men said a word before Erik finally opened his mouth.

“The future is not set, Charles…”

Reaching out to gently caress Charles’s wavy locks, Erik said in a firm, determined tone. “Even if it is, we will always have wigs.”

X

source: tumblr.com
source: tumblr.com

“Are you ready?”

“More than ever.”

Charles replies with trust and confidence before closing his eyes, allowing the anesthetic to claim him.

Hank nods his head and proceeds the first step of the long operation whose sole purpose is to restore the use of Charles’s legs without suppressing his powers.

This operation is a long, arduous development of Hank’s previous serum. It hasn’t been until lately that Hank discovers the reason why his previous serum, despite being able to restore Charles’s walking ability, was a failure. The formula lacks one essential element: the cerebrospinal fluid containing the X-gene which is extracted from a mutant’s brain.

And, getting the necessary amount for the serum only means one thing: killing the mutant.

Charles vehemently opposed it at first; he couldn’t tolerate the idea of taking a person’s life, one of his own kind to boost, in order to fix his broken body. Being unable to walk is fine; being unable to use his powers is fine; Charles can endure them all. However, he can never bear the guilt of killing in order to live.

It took Hank endless time and effort to talk Charles into accepting his treatment. Charles was still skeptical when Hank said it was donated by a mutant who knew his death penalty was certain. In the end, Hank shut him up by telling Charles it was that mutant’s final will and if Charles wasted it, his soul could never rest in peace.

The operation was a success. As Hank watches Charles carefully taking his steps like a toddler, once again he swallows the gnawing guilt of lying to his best friend.

It was Erik Lehnsherr’s death wish for the truth to be forever concealed, after all.

Yet, it’s only a matter of time before Charles regains his powers.

In this snippet, Erik was sentenced to death for murdering President Kennedy instead of being imprisoned for life. The government deemed that he was too dangerous to keep alive.

This may or may not be a prequel to “I – Illusion”.

Y – Young (and Beautiful)

source: pixiv.net
source: pixiv.net

Erik was young once, and beautiful too, though he always crosses out the latter with a ferocity of a shark sensing blood.

Time has never been merciful.

Now, Erik is old and withered, his once auburn hair all grey, his skin wrinkled and sagged, and he deserves the word “beautiful” no longer.

On the other hand, Charles was, is and will always stay young and beautiful.

In Erik’s mind.

Z – Zero

This a Fate/Stay Night parody and it will make absolutely no sense if you know nothing about Fate/Stay Night or Fate/Zero.

“You’re supposed to be my Master?”

Behind the metal helmet, steel blue eyes bored into Charles’s face as the tall man in the glowing circle looked down on the boy sitting ungracefully on the ground. Though it was windless in the storage, the stranger’s cape was fluttering widely, as if speaking for its master’s impatience for a confirmation from Charles, who was so overwhelmed by the stranger’s presence that his lips were frozen in a straight, albeit trembling line.

Too many things had happened in one short night and Charles really couldn’t be blamed for acting like a genuine half-wit. First, he accidentally witnessed the mortal combat between two bizarrely costumed men. One minute they were trying to kill each other and the next, the more vicious of the duo turned away in the heat of battle to attack Charles. It was a stab through the heart and Charles needed not to be a medical student to tell death was certain. Yet, when he came about, he was perfectly alive. A weird dream, perhaps? Unfortunately, it was no dream; the messy reddish stain on Charles’s cardigan was one proof, another being his assailant’s return to ensure Charles “stay” dead not long after.

It had happened too fast. Charles was running for dear life when this costumed stranger seemingly materialized out of thin air. With a wave of his gloved hand, the stranger easily repelled Charles’s assailant’s attack, sending the spearman out to the yard.

“You’re not a half-wit, aren’t you?”

Steel blue eyes squinted dangerously and it took all Charles’s courage not to squirm under such intense gaze.

“I…I’m no…”

A sharp pain bit the back of his hand and when all eyes looked down, they both saw a three-pieced glowing tattoo.

The stranger’s gaze softened with a hint of smugness.

“That answers me. But, mark my words…”

He was speaking with German accent, Charles noticed, which oddly added more authority to what he was about to say.

“I may fight with you but I don’t take any forms of mastership you attempt on me.”

“Of course you don’t,” Charles blurted out, too confused to grasp the meaning behind his savior’s “fight” and “mastership”.

He spared no second for Charles and floated gracefully to the yard, to Charles’s assailant.

Charles’s baby blue eyes widened at the sight of every single metal objects in the vicinity spring from their place and fly toward the stranger. As they were flying, they melted and formed pointed projectiles to rain down the spearman.

Charles could only hold his breath and stared silently at the unusual display of power.

“The hell with this witchcraft? Are you Caster?”

The spearman roared, spinning his blood-red spear to deflect the projectiles. Despite his dexterity of his spear, some were still able to penetrate his defense to wound him.

Blood made the spearman’s red eyes glow and his sharp canine visible, his handsome features marred with bestial rage.

“Gáe…”

Charles saw a smirk creep up his savior’s lips before with a wave of his hand, he turned the spearman’s beloved weapon to its master’s heart.

The spearman’s body dissipated in thousands bright spots, leaving not a trace left on where he had been standing and fighting. Metal projectiles lying uselessly on the battered ground were the only proof that there had been a fight between supernatural beings.

Charles’s savior lifted his metal helmet, his short, auburn hair gently played by the wind. Soft moonlight outlined his features as he turned around and meet Charles in the eyes. Upon seeing his savior’s face for the first time, the boy’s breath got stuck in his throat.

“In this era, I go by the name Archer. But I prefer, Magneto.”

Fate/Stay Night’s fateful encounter parodied by Charles Xavier as Emiya Shirou and Erik Lehnsherr/ Magneto/ Archer as Saber.

Archer class probably suits Erik the best due to this class’s Independence Skill (the ability to act independently without the Master). Oh, thanks to the X-Men franchise, Servant Erik Lehnsherr gets a huge stat boost.

Erik’s Noble Phantasm is his own mutation and he can manipulate most other Servants’ weapons, except weapons made from other-worldly material like Gil’s Ea, Arturia’s Excalibur or Lancelot’s Aarondight. I imagine that Erik can pull something similar to Gil’s Gate of Babylon or Emiya’s Unlimited Blades Work if he has enough metal.

 

END

26 Shades of Mind and Metal (P-T)

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom : X-Men: First Class (2011), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Rating : from K+ to M

Pairing : Cherik- Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier (X-Men: First Class and X-Men: Days of Future Past)

Genres : Fanfiction, slash, humor, fluff, angst, dark, AU etc. (depends on each snippet)

Characters : Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto), Charles Xavier (Professor X), Henry Phillip “Hank” McCoy (Beast), Raven (Mystique) etc.

Warnings : spoilers for First Class and Days of Future Past, mpeg, character’s death, violence, shark joke etc. (again, depends on each snippet)

Summary : An alphabetical collection of snippets revolving around the relationship of Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto) and Charles Xavier (Professor X)

———-

P-T

———-

P-Painting pixiv.net
pixiv.net

P – Paintings

In many senses, Erik Lehnsherr is a one-in-a-million talent. Fame and wealth beyond imagination would be well in his grasp if only he refused to paint only one single subject in every of his piece.

His subject is an Adonis in the form of slender bones, tousled chestnut hair and eyes like the ocean when it welcomes the blazing glory of the sun.

With Erik’s talented skill, the Adonis has come to the world of mortals.

Perhaps, many rich, debauched men and women with money to burn would pay handsomely for Erik’s paintings, provided that Erik tolerated putting them to sale.

Which he never does, even if he’s down to the last penny, even if he starves to death.

Erik toils away hours and hours to perfect each of his work to the smallest detail; it’s as if he isn’t merely painting a picture but is offering his heart, body and soul to God.

And, in many senses, Erik is a willing slave to his own paintings, to his Adonis.

Rather than a figment of Erik’s imagination, the Adonis in Erik’s painting is real. Was real. Anyone who knows Erik long enough should be aware of this truth.

Years ago, Erik brought him to this backwater town, sharing with him not just his food and bed but also his body and soul. It seemed to many at that moment Erik could go against the whole world just for him.

Then, the young Adonis left their shared cottage for Hades’s embrace and Erik started painting.

Oblivious to everyone’s pity of his lonely and miserable state, day after day, Erik continues to pour his heart and soul into keeping his Adonis alive.

Yes, alive.

Indeed he died and was buried in Gaia’s bosoms; still, unknown to anyone, the Adonis has never left Erik’s side; day after day he has been sharing Erik’s food and bed as well as his body and soul.

As long as Erik keeps painting.

Q – Query

“Are you with baby, Charles?”

Raven arched a perfect eyebrow and nonchalantly asked after seeing her dear brother throw up whatever left in his stomach fourth time in the morning. Her query and possible sudden realization brought to Charles’s normally pale cheeks a shade more fervent than Raven’s hair and a storm of following questions from the other kids.

R – Ready

“I’m ready.”

Erik’s short, firm and solemn reply when being pressed by Raven’s query made Charles blush and laugh hard at the same time. The child of Professor X and Magneto, what would it be? What power would it possess? Charles found it hard to tame his wild, raging anticipation that grew larger each day with the blissful weight in his abdomen. Yet, when he saw with his eyes how “ready” Erik was for their coming baby, steel cradle and countless big and small metal objects for toy, all he wanted was to punch the metal bender in the face.

S – Sanity

Being held in jail in ten years for a crime you hadn’t committed was the surest, simplest way to drive a man crazy, even if that man was an extraordinary individual such as Erik Lehnsherr. Erik hadn’t gone insane, not yet and what had been doing a wondrous job of keeping his sanity intact was something as small and fragile as the smile of Charles Xavier.

T – Teeth

Charles sometimes wondered if Erik’s teeth was part of his mutation: unusually sharp and strong and sure to give people with galeophobia one hell of a nightmare. And Charles was neither galeophobic nor afraid of getting bitten by the shark.

[Cherik] Alternate

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom : X-Men: First Class (2011), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Rating : K

Pairing : Cherik- Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier (X-Men: First Class and X-Men: Days of Future Past)

Genres : Fanfiction, slash, humor

Characters : Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto), Charles Xavier (Professor X), Logan (Wolverine)

Warnings : spoilers for First Class and Days of Future Past

Summary : It didn’t happen the day Raven killed Bolivar Trask; it all happened the day a certain metal bender got divorce with a certain telepath on Cuban beach. So, in order to fix everything and hopefully change the grim future, Professor X and Magneto decide to send Wolverine back 61 years ago, when their past selves were not yet divided.

Can Wolverine fulfill his mission? Is the future truly set?

42196921_p3

Charles’s expression roulettes from curiosity to surprise, to disbelief and finally settles in utmost denial as he begins to rub his temple with his index finger.

Opposite from him sits comfortably a tall, burly man, a cigar hanging at the corner of his mouth, emitting a defiant air.

It’s been less than an hour and Charles’s study chamber, clean and softly scented with freshly picked lavenders (Moira insisted that he should have flowers in his surroundings and eagerly set herself to the task), already reeks with narcotic smell.

Good thing his cigar isn’t the cheap kind.

Less than an hour ago, this man showed up at the Xavier manor’s entrance and requested to speak with ‘Professor X’ Charles Xavier alone about an ‘extremely important matter’. A quick glance at the man’s mind asserted Charles’s intuition that he is no less a mutant than Charles or any other residents in the house.

Out of the telepath’s curiosity, the stranger was invited in.

Knowing his nickname was one thing; finding his way to Charles’s study chamber with hardly any effort despite being here for the first time was another thing about this man that piqued Charles’s interest. A fascinating individual, Charles mused. What kind of gift would he possess?

The man introduced himself as Logan, a ‘messenger from the future’ (Charles’s own deduction after listening to Logan rather than his actual words).

And the message this reluctant messenger brought from the future was not the least delighting. Worse, nothing in Logan’s mind proved what he said to be sort of the truth.

So, Charles’s been sitting quietly for several minutes, allowing the hard truth to sink in.

Good thing Logan is man patient enough not to press the matter. In fact, the man seems content just having his butt seated comfortably on the luxurious sofa and his cigar tucked dearly between his lips.

“So,” Charles opens his dry lips, finger still rubbing his temple, “as you’ve said, in the future, I’ll be both bald and paralyzed.”

“And still kicking several asses.” Logan casually exhaled a circled puff of smoke.

“Pardon me, is that a sarcasm?”

“It means you still fight well, in future vocabulary.”

“Erik did that to me?”

Catching a glance of the said man standing in the yard, trying to move the satellite disk back and forth, Charles asks what seems more of a statement than a question, his tone veiled with anger, disbelief and mostly, sadness. “Then he ran off to start his campaign?”

“Yeah. But as long as I’ve known you two, and I’ve known you two for quite some time, no matter how big a jerk Magneto is capable of, your future self doesn’t hold anything against him. In fact you two are…”

“Are…?”

“… Getting along well.”

Charles doesn’t miss the struggle for word at the other man. He’s half tempted to get into Logan’s mind again and pluck the truth himself but somehow, his intuition is against it. A telepath should know to listen to his own intuition and the right thing Charles ought to do is to let the matter peacefully slip.

Instead, he digs into Logan’s memory.

“Seven Heavens !!”

Charles lets out a startled cry, body jolting back, nearly falling off his chair. His handsome face is a wondrous combination of paleness and crimson.

“You… I… Erik … We… They…”

For someone with a Ph. D, Charles is surprisingly terrible at coherent speech.

“You see them, right, you and Magneto?”

If Logan was offended by having his memory invaded (which he’s not), he certainly didn’t show. His expression is a mix of concern, guilt and embarrassment as he pats Charles on the shoulder.

“They… We are…”

“Yeah, you and Magneto are that kind of relationship. Sorry bub, should have warned you first. I accidentally walked in and… that image kinda etched in my memory. Dared not ask you to erase it….”

Logan’s voice trails off and utter silence engulfs the two men.

Several minutes later…

Charles, who appears to have recovered from the shock, speaks first.

“It’s good we still have so much stamina at that age.”

“…… I suppose so.” Logan answers mechanically.

Silence stretches out but dissipates quickly as Charles raises another less awkward and embarrassing topic.

“Did he… did Erik ever regret?”

“Jerk as he is, crippling you is his life’s greatest regret.”

“You heard him say?”

“Both heard and saw. Which is why I’m here, speaking to you. The entire idea was Magneto’s.”

“You’re speaking to me about… changing the future?”

“That hits the bull’s eye. They said it all happened that day on the Cuban beach, which is only a few days from now.”

“You… They… Future Erik and future me believe the course of history can be changed…”

“Not can, will. Because this is our only hope. In our time, the humans have created some freaky things called the ‘Sentinels’ and they have literally wiped mutantkind off the Earth.”

As long as he starts talking about ‘The Sentinels’, Logan’s expression shifts to that of grim seriousness.

“Future you and Magneto theorize that by changing the past, the Sentinels would have never been born and mutantkind could be averted from the fate of extinction.”

Quite a herculean task, Charles thinks to himself.

“… What if the future can’t be changed or… it’ll become a much darker one?”.

“The future can’t be worse than its current mess.” Logan shrugs. “And even if it’s so, at least we can get your future self his legs back. Not much a change, really, but it’s something. Hell if I returned empty-handed, Magneto would be damn sure to twist every single joint of my skeleton.”

Logan’s amused tone does little to ease the deep frown between Charles’s eyebrows.

“Erik isn’t that terrible.”

“Well, that’s the Magneto I know. As for your Erik, I think you can figure out some way to deal with him. After we settle this mess.”

The deliberate stress on ‘your Erik’ makes Charles’s heart flutter and a not-so-invisible pink creeps up his neck. And even if Logan does see it, he acts like he doesn’t.

“Mr. Logan…”

“Logan is fine.”

“Please tell me how we can save our future.”

A few hours later, Erik, Moira, Raven, Hank, Sean and Alex are all in perplexity when they witness a heavily obviously blushing Charles emerge from the study chamber with the stranger who goes by the name Logan. No matter how they bombard him with questions (mostly Sean, Alex and Raven), Charles keeps his lips tighter than a miser’s purse.

Things turn out word-for-word to what Logan told in his study chamber a few days ago. They’ve found Shaw; Erik’s killed him and now, both the American and Soviet fleets are raining missiles on them.

As Erik’s holding the missiles in the air, Charles exchanges a brief thought with Logan.

<<Is it time?>>

<<Yeah, it’s time. Definitely.>>

Charles inhales a deep, long breath.

This is going to be embarrassing. Extremely embarrassing.

The things I do to secure our future.

Charles repeats the words in his mind as a means to give him courage. He gathers all his strength and plunges forward, crashing hard into his best friend.

Into the latter’s mouth actually.

Moira rolls her eyes. Raven’s eyes have never been wider. Hank, Alex and Sean simultaneously drop their jaws.

Azazel looks like if he could turn any redder, he would. Janos is wearing an expression that literally reads “I want to poke my eyes blind”. Angel rolls on the sandy beach, laughing madly.

Leaning against the submarine, Logan suppresses the urge to facepalm himself to send a friendly reminder to Charles’s mind.

<<Don’t forget the tongue, Magneto himself said so.>>

<<Go fuck yourself, Logan. And him too.>>

Logan pretends he hears nothing from the telepath. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he takes out his beloved cigar and lights.

Charles sends back a none-too-friendly reply while struggling hard to keep Erik beneath him. He focuses his attention to Erik’s lips, licking them, opening them, dipping in.

Here goes his first kiss. With a man.

Charles’s technique is clumsy at best but under his sudden, unexpected assault and mind-blowing new found sensation, Erik is stunned as a fawn caught in traffic light. Even when he can pick up bits and bits of his thoughts, all he can think of are the softness of Charles’s lips and the erratic movement of his tongue inside him, Shaw, Americans, Soviets, humans… be damned.

And,… off with the hat.

Charles allows himself a brief moment of triumph when he manages to get rid of Erik’s helmet without the man’s protest, obviously too intoxicated. Then the telepath makes damn sure to take full advantage of his telepathy to amplify what both he and Erik are feeling.

Lost control, the missiles explode in the sky above them, creating a mock show of fireworks in the celebration of love.

For once, just for once, the Americans and the Soviets want to hug and kiss each other in sheer bliss.

As some wise man once said, make love, not war.

From that crucial moment on, history is written anew.

And if Bolivar Trask ever thinks of laying his vile hand on mutantkind, he’ll find himself making enemy with two most powerful mutants on Earth.

A friendly reminder, Charles isn’t any less ruthless in dealing with his enemy than Erik. He just hasn’t found his true enemy yet, is all.

Before Logan makes his way back to the future (hopefully one without the Sentinels), he has a little message for Erik.

“Late congrats, bub, you’re already a father. Three kids, all mutants: one speedster, one metal bender just like you and one whose ability I’m not sure of, all out there, struggling with hardship. So don’t forget to get them home, OK?”

Logan speaks and immediately slips away.

Erik is still half-way through recovery after that thunderstruck news when he feels the hairs behind his neck stand on their ends. Turning around, he is met with Charles’s not-so-gentle stare.

End (?)

Don’t get Charles wrong; he’s actually enraged by Erik’s irresponsibility rather than the latter’s past love affairs.

 

 

26 Shades of Mind and Metal (K-O)

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom : X-Men: First Class (2011), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Rating : from K+ to M

Pairing : Cherik- Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier (X-Men: First Class and X-Men: Days of Future Past)

Genres : Fanfiction, slash, humor, fluff, angst, dark, AU etc. (depends on each snippet)

Characters : Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto), Charles Xavier (Professor X), Henry Phillip “Hank” McCoy (Beast), Raven (Mystique) etc.

Warnings : spoilers for First Class and Days of Future Past, mpeg, character’s death, violence, shark joke etc. (again, depends on each snippet)

Summary : An alphabetical collection of snippets revolving around the relationship of Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto) and Charles Xavier (Professor X)

———-

K-O

———-

Illustration: pixiv.net
Illustration: pixiv.net

 

K – Kafkaesque

One morning, as Erik Lehnsherr was waking up from pleasure dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a huge grey shark. He lay on his back (this position caused his dorsal fins to numb and pain) and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his grey abdomen attached with more fins. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. His fins, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, wiggled helplessly before his eyes.

“What’s happened to me,” he thought. It was no dream. His room, well, their room to be more precise, a proper, furnished room for two full-grown human beings, only somewhat too messy, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. Above the table, on which a collection of books and many metallic objects spread out—Erik was a metal bender—hung the picture which he had set in a pretty gilt frame (he had made the frame himself, a proud work). It was a picture of a young man wearing absolutely nothing but a fedora and a fur boa. He sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the viewer a solid fur muff into which his entire forearm had disappeared.

Erik stared at the picture, wide eyed as if being hypnotized by the deliciously slender curve of the young man’s hip and he seemed entirely forgotten about his bizarre shark state, until a voice called out to him. To his mind, actually.

Get off me, Erik. You’re crushing me!

Charles?

Erik wondered in his mind. The man-turn-shark finally recalled that last night he had gone to bed with a partner and now said partner was nowhere in sight.

Where are you, Charles?

He heard a sigh.

Roll over! I’m beneath you.

Erik was confused but he did as Charles told him. After many tries and fails, he managed to rolled… off the bed and landed heavily on the ground.

This body is a pain in the ass, he thought, missing his lithe human body.

Told you not to turn over in the night. Almost got me crushed.

The same young man in the picture lying on the bed in the same unclothed state, minus the fedora and the fur boa, rubbed his messy brown locks and slightly groaned.

Erik blinked all three eyelids (which is a strange gesture since sharks don’t blink). Did Charles not see anything strange in the room? Thing like Erik Lehnsherr had turned into a shark.

Not to mention a shark out of water.

“What do you want for breakfast? Trouts? Herrings?”

Charles asked nonchalantly with his physical voice while putting on his clothes.

You don’t see anything strange?

Great. Even his human voice was gone. Good thing Charles was a telepath.

… Or an animal whisperer.

“Like what?”

I’m a shark.

Charles stifled a laugh. “So? As far as I remember you’ve always been a shark. Did you dream about being a dolphin last night?”

I dreamed of being a man, thank you. He growled mentally, which earned him a gentle pat on the head from his partner.

“We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? Shark or not, I love you all the same.”

For a moment Erik felt so warm and so loved that he almost thought being a shark was not a huge problem as it might seem.

But Charles, merciless Charles just had to pull him back from his little fantasy.

“Get up you lazy shark,” Charles scolded, not severely, “breakfast won’t wait forever. Neither will Wolverine and Hank.”

A stiff silence. And a mental explosion.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET DOWNSTAIR, CHARLES?

Later, much later, Erik finally calmed down enough to accept his situation. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, he mused, while around him a fur ball called Hank, a Siamese cat called Raven, a pair of (very noisy) chipmunks called Alex and Sean, and a wolverine called… Wolverine, all sat down for dinner.

At least, Charles was still Charles.

Erik as a shark. Shark joke again.

Illustration: pixiv.net
Illustration: pixiv.net

L – Letters

The letters arrived in his mailbox on a monthly basis are never unanonymous; still, Charles needs not the name to guess the sender’s identity. Even in the age when telephone and electronic mail have replaced pen and paper, he still receives one letter every month, which he then carefully preserves in a bronze box kept in a place only he knew where.

This is yet another secret shared between the two of them.

M – Missing

The last delivery Charles received from the enigmatic sender contained a torso and a message which read: “Deepest apology. Would love to send you a whole but sadly, there’s one thing missing: his heart. Try your luck by searching around you. It certainly should not be too far.”

N – Nightmare

“You like it, don’t you?”

That man whispers and flashes a smile.

There is something in that man’s smile, something unnamed, something makes Charles’s blood run cold and his entire body on fire at the same time. Slowly, the man takes his time breaking Charles, and in some twisted, depraved sense, Charles, like he’s said, enjoys it.

The same man wearing the same smile comes every night with various different metal devices to inflict agony and shame upon Charles, only to vanish when the first breath of dawn creeps into his bedroom.

Such is the nightmare which has been tormenting Charles since when he can’t pinpoint. He remembers he was horrified at first and couldn’t concentrate on anything without the man and his smile coming to haunt him.

Never has Charles imagined his fear will eventually turn into obsession.

Perhaps, it’s in his nature to be violated, to be depraved in such manner, as Charles often mocked himself in his own helplessness to resist giving into the dream man’s dominance.

The nightmare would remain a wicked figment of Charles’s psyche for the rest of his life, if he never met Erik Lehnsherr.

It’s a crowded bar where people in this town can come and shed their normal, civil skin to get in touch with their primal self.

Amidst the congealed mixture of thick cigarette smoke and pungent smell of liquor and figures dancing mindlessly to the deafening music, Charles sees Erik, sitting alone in the farthest corner, shutting himself off from the madness of the world around.

This is not the first time Charles has seen Erik; he has met this man countless times before. Every night, after he closes his eyes.

Erik’s eyes spot Charles from across the room and the man flashes him his usual smile, which is a silent beckon to Charles’s subconscious mind.

“You like it, don’t you?”

Charles vaguely hears Erik’s whisper as he lays underneath the man, his nightmare now the reality.

“Positive.”

Despite pains pervading his flesh and bones, Charles manages to reply with a defiant smile.

Inspired by “Watch me fall apart”, a Cherik AU with Dark Erik.

O – Object

“No, Erik!”

It’s been unwillingly become Charles’s mantra. When Erik tried to sink Shaw’s ship (and himself with it). When he tortured Emma Frost. When he sank the coin deep into Shaw’s skull. When he fired the missiles back to the humans. When he tried to eliminate Raven to secure mutants’ future. When he tried to execute the President in front of all Americans.

Yet, no matter how many times Charles says “No” to Erik outside their bedroom, inside, the only word to ever escape Charles’s lips is “Yes”.

The first 2 paragraphs of “Kafkaesque” are parody of Franz Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis”. Here is the original excerpt:

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.

“What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman – and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.